


Family

by kendermaus



Category: Smallville
Genre: AU, AU jobs - trucker, Amnesia, Family, Family of the heart, First Time, M/M, Smallville Mutants aren't Evil, past torture (hinted at), possible past abuse (hinted at), secrets and trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kendermaus/pseuds/kendermaus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where things turned out a bit differently than what we know, a gifted young man reconnects with his past, and finds his future.  </p><p>Or, the one where: Jonathan Kent is a good man who drives a truck, Clark isn't as good at keeping secrets as he thinks he is, and Clark's newest stray isn't as much of a stranger as everyone thinks.  (Lex has amnesia, Lionel wasn't a jerk of a dad, Julian lives and loves his older brother, and the Kent clan gains a son.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> I really hate when my characters take a left turn at Albuquerque and forget to tell me. NOT the story i had originally outlined. But i think it's ok. I don't own the characters and i'm making NO money off this, and considering all i have is debt and a leaky air mattress... suing won't get you anything. A BIG thanks to Psilence for her SUPER FAST last minute beta. Thanks, hon. All remaining mistakes are ALL MINE. 
> 
> The song at the beginning IS an actual song. _The Truck Driving Song_ by Weird Al. If you're not familiar with it, do yourself a favor and check it out (it's on YouTube or on his "Running with Scissors" album) - and you'll understand why Jonathan may not be real fond of it. My uncle was a truck driver and i TORMENTED him with the song every chance i got. ::wicked grin:: Miss ya, Dale

_Drivin' a truck. Drivin' a big ol' truck. Drivin' a truck with my high heels..._

(click)

"Dad!" the younger driver protested as the deep-voiced singer was cut off mid phrase.

Jonathan Kent glared at his son as he sat back in the passenger seat of the rig. "I don't care if your mother *did* give you that, I refuse to listen to it again."

Clark grinned, glancing at his dad before turning back to the long expanse of dark blacktop before them. "Come on, dad. You *know* it's funny."

Jonathan slumped in the seat. "I know no such thing." The protest would have sounded more convincing without the almost chuckle in the older man's voice. "Besides," he countered, pulling his cap down over his eyes as he prepared to nap, "we've already listened to it twice since leaving the Kansas City city limits. You're gonna wear it out."

Clark chuckled openly. "CD's don't wear out like tapes, dad. I could listen to it again and again and again," he teased.

"You know you're a pest, right?"

His father's blue eyes twinkled at him from under the bill of the "Smallville Farmers' Cooperative" hat and Clark's smiled. "So you and mom keep telling me," he teased back. "Well, if you're not gonna let me have my music you'd better wake up and talk to me. Don't want to chance your co-driver falling asleep on these back county roads."

Jonathan's snort was longsuffering and as familiar as the feel of the rig under Clark's capable hands. They'd been playing this game since Clark was old enough to get behind the wheel of the family owned big rig. When he'd taken driver's education at fourteen he'd already been able to shift an eighteen wheeler through its first six gears smooth as silk. He'd spent summers hauling wheat in the large wheat trucks, learning how to deal with traffic flow and how to control a rig with a shifting load. Then after graduation, he'd taken the final steps to following in his father's footsteps, signing on as a new driver for the thriving community owned Smallville Farmers' Cooperative and joining his father as a team driver for the longer hauls.

Most of the truckers for the cooperative had families that they were reluctant to leave for the time it took to haul their goods to the outer distribution points on the coasts and even up into Canada. But Jonathan and Clark, after lengthy family discussions with Martha about the pros and cons of the men being gone for weeks at a time, gladly took over the longer hauls. The trips became "family time" for them, a chance to "bond" as father and son.

But this was one of the last hauls for the season. The boys were heading home for the winter and both were looking forward to familiar beds and Martha Kent's home cooked meals. The last run had been easy, the weather holding until just outside of the Wichita city limits and the fairly new highway between Wichita and Smallville was a snow emergency route that the state kept meticulously clean after the meteor debacle 20 years prior. It was amazing what national scrutiny of road conditions could do to... motivate state legislators. Especially when that scrutiny shows that many of those killed in the meteor shower and the unusual storms that followed it, could have been saved had emergency relief teams been able to reach them quicker.

But there were no emergency tonight. There was just a nice, gentle snow that would most likely be gone by morning that, while it made the roads a touch slick, was easily handled if one was careful. Clark, use to such typical Kansas conditions, was always careful. His hazel eyes scanned the white coated landscape of bare fields and distant shelter belts of trees. It was good to be home. He let his father's familiar voice wash over him as he drove, absently noting the plans his father had for passing the holidays at home and smiling at the unspoken dictate that Clark would be assisting in those plans. He smiled. He didn't mind. In fact, he loved helping his dad in the workshop, building shelves for mom and small tables and toys that could be sold at the Late Winter Festival in early December. It was amazing the amount of delicate and intricate crafts his father could produce in just over a month and a half.

Clark had begun learning to create them as well. During their last few delivery runs, Jonathan had slowly begun teaching Clark the patience and control needed to produce some of the more delicate, hand tooled doll furniture they'd introduced the previous year. It wasn't easy, but the long hours and painstaking practice had helped him refine the fine motor and strength control that he'd need in other areas of his life as well. Clark knew that was part of the reason Jonathan had brought along the antique hand-carving tools. His strength and abilities had experienced another shift, and it was a lot easier to replace a bit of wood, than a fellow driver's hand or a steering wheel. Clark appreciated the practice. Of course, seeing the way the young girls' faces lit up when presented with a small, functional cabinet for their doll houses helped make the frustration even more bearable in Clark's mind. It was one of the better "training methods" his parents had devised over the years since he'd literally burst into their lives in a shower of rocks and fire.

"You're gonna stare a hole in the windshield if you aren't careful," his dad teased.

Clark shrugged. "Just thinking."

"That's never a good sign."

Clark chuckled and stuck his tongue out at the older man, delighting in the familiar easy banter. This was what he loved about driving, getting time with his dad. He scanned the passing fields as he drove, watching for unexpected traffic from the sandy side roads or unsuspecting wildlife that hadn't learned the danger of the asphalt strip that broke-up the long stretches of open fields.

"Seriously, I was just thinking how lucky I am that I found you two..." he trailed off as movement at the far corner of a field caught his attention. It was too large for a dog or a coyote, but it moved too awkwardly for a deer, unless it was an injured one. He automatically started to ease the truck down, passing through the gears with absent minded precision as he focused in on the vision.

A scarred upper-lip pulled back from its perfectly formed but chapped counterpart. "Help me."

Clark pulled the semi to an easy stop along the shoulder and set the brake.

"What do you see, son?" Jonathan asked, his own eyes scanning the white-tipped darkness beyond the reach of the headlights. Whatever Clark saw it was beyond his own limits, but he'd long ago grown use to his son's gifts.

"I'm not sure, dad. I think there's someone out there but…" he turned uncertain eyes on his father. "I'm just not sure."

Jonathan smiled reassuringly. "Go do what you need to, Clark. I'll keep the cab warm until you get back." He shifted out of his seat and rummaged through their gear for Clark's coat. "Just be careful. We're closer to the meteor site than I like you to be."

Clark nodded as he unlocked the door and stepped out into the Kansas night. "Yes, sir," he promised.

"And take your coat," Jonathan urged, handing the bulky jacket over. "You don't necessarily need it, but depending on what you find out there, that new stray just might," he teased. His concern and compassion were thick in his voice and Clark smiled his most reassuring smile.

"Yes, sir. I should be right back." Eyes focused on the pale figure in the distance, Clark began to run effortlessly over the snow-dusted fields.

~~~

He could hear the distant growl of a large vehicle, but was too tired to try and call out again. Besides, the way his luck normally ran, it would be the people he was running from, not help. He wasn't sure where he was anymore, how far he'd gone, how far he still had to go. All he was sure of was that he was tired. Pulled down by that one, overwhelming thought, he lowered his weary body back down, leaning heavily into the solidity beneath him. He'd just rest for a moment, just a moment.

A blast of wind buffeted his bare skin and he wondered if it was going to snow again. Perhaps a new blanket of snow would warm him. Wasn't that what… someone had told him once? When lost in a snow storm, burrowing under the snow could help keep you warmer than laying in the elements and the winds. But he wasn't *in* a snow storm, was he? He forced open reluctantly obedient eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings. The night was darker than he remembered, the stars no longer visible to guide him. Just as well, he supposed, realizing he could no longer feel his fingers or toes, a situation that niggled as important at the back of his mind, but he wasn't sure why. All he knew was he doubted he'd be able to follow the stars anymore even if he *could* see them.

Another blast of air ghosted over his skin, stirring up the fallen snow until he felt like a figure in a snow-globe. He smiled at the thought, wondering what child had shaken his world and if they were enjoying the otherwise pastoral scene.

Between one sluggish thought and the next, he was no longer alone. He blinked, waiting for the figure to vanish. It, or rather *he*, didn't. Clouds of white swirled around the too handsome figure, dusting the dark crown of hair like stars in a night sky. Stars that melted as they fell, soaking and changing all they touched. Stars that fell like fire from the heavens, he trembled at the thought.

Large, gentle hands reached for him, burning where they touched his naked skin. But he welcomed the searing warmth, leaning trustingly into the surprisingly solid frame. Compassionate hazel eyes took in his battered form, sadness creeping into the expressive depths.

He knew those eyes. He'd seen them once before, the memory hazy but familiar. A memory he'd recounted time and again, especially at night when the pain and darkness threatened. Memories of his angel, a dark haired cherub who'd led him through the charred remains of fields and unfamiliar grounds to safety. Who'd smiled the smile of the innocent just before he disappeared.

The others had never believed him. But he'd known, he'd believed. He'd met his guardian angel that day. And now the angel was here again, only… older. Did angels age? Perhaps this wasn't the same angel, perhaps they all had dark, softly curling hair and gentle, beautiful eyes. He wasn't sure, and the idea was too much for his exhausted brain to try and puzzle out.

He sighed in contentment as something soft curled around him, cloaking him from the cold. He breathed deep, inhaling long ago scents of safety and comfort. Scents nearly forgotten but so easily recalled... recalled now when he needed their comfort the most. Is that why his angel had come back? Giving him comfort in his final moments? He vaguely remembered calling out to the darkness, knowing no one was close enough to hear. But angels could hear anything, wasn't that what mama had said? Mama who'd held him close, whispering that she'd always hear them, even when she was in heaven. Had she sent his angel? Or had his angel come because he had called? Did it really matter since he was here?

He forced open his eyes, needing to see his angel's face, just for a moment before letting sleep take him, perhaps permanently this time. He wasn't afraid; his angel was here, for whatever purpose. "You came," he whispered, chapped lips curling in a tired smile.

The angel's arms tightened around him, the beautiful eyes searching his face, looking for something that Lex hoped was there. "You called," the angel answered, his voice low and gentle and so matter of fact, as if there was no doubt that such was the way of the Universe.

He nodded. Knowing that the angel would see that things happened as they were meant to, he allowed the darkness to claim him.

~~~~

Clark skidded to a halt beside the prone form, the snow swirling around him like a mini blizzard. His eyes scanned the still form even as he dropped to the young man's side. Deep bruises stood out in sharp relief against skin blue-tinged with could. The body was too thin, ribs and hipbones too evident to Clark's gaze. The boxer-briefs, the man's only protection from the winter chill, clung precariously to the slender waist obviously too large for the man currently wearing them. Clark wondered if they'd once actually fit the young man and if they had, what had changed that fact.

The bald head showed signs of past trauma, bruises and cuts and, as his X-ray vision revealed, partially healed fractures. The same showed throughout the quick examination Clark did before risking any movement of the battered form. Grateful for his unusual talents and the reassurance that he'd do no further harm by moving the too still figure, Clark eased the man into his arms intending to carry him back to the truck and to medical help. The man gasped as Clark's hands touched his ice-cold skin and Clark cursed his higher than normal body temperature.

Then the man burrowed closer.

Clark smiled and took the opportunity to wrap his jacket securely around the other man. The man sighed, breathing deeply and relaxing further in Clark's arms. Red-gold lashes tipped with frost and snow fluttered open, revealing oddly peaceful blue-grey eyes.

"You came."

The voice was rough, ragged and Clark wondered what the cultured tones normally sounded like. He shifted the injured man closer, pulling the jacket tighter around the thin frame. Of course he had come. He couldn't leave someone like this if it was in his power to help them. And thanks to so many factors beyond his control, he had power to spare. "You called," he answered, unsure how else to respond to the quiet awe in the man's voice, as if he were somehow special simply for doing the right thing. The eye lids fluttered closed at the answer and Clark felt the man go lax in his arms.

He shifted his burden easily, pressing the bare face securely into the crook of his neck as he pulled up and secured the jacket's hood. While he might be able to withstand the whipping chill of the wind as he ran, he doubted his already taxed "passenger" could. He wished he'd brought mom's quilt so he could wrap the bare legs as well, but he wasn't willing to risk leaving the man here to go back to the truck for it. So he curled the man into him as much as he could then began the rapid run back to the distant truck.

It was at times like these, not that he'd had many times like this really, that he wished he could do more than just run. The trek back to the waiting rig would have been so much easier if he'd been able to fly. Instead, he was forced to run over the slick, uneven ground, praying that he didn't trip over a plow furrow or an unseen bit of root. If *he* fell while running this speed the ground suffered more than he did. But if he dropped the man in his arms, or tripped and fell, he doubted the other man would survive it, and Clark would be damned if he'd be the cause of this man's death. The short trip felt like it took forever as he picked his way quickly but carefully over the mile of uneven field. He gradually slowed coming to a welcome stop beside the humming rig and smiled as his father opened the passenger's door for him.

"I've got the lower bunk cleared and the extra blankets down as well," his father assured as he helped Clark into the toasty warm cab. "Figured you'd need them the way you came tearing back. Settle in. We're headed back to the farm first, your mom's got extra broth warming for your newest stray if it's up to it. If not, we'll see about getting it to the hospital over in Wichita. They've got good trauma units when it comes to cold injuries."

Clark let the words wash over him as he settled his burden into the warm nest of blankets. The man didn't stir but the faint line of pain around his eyes eased a bit as Clark tucked the blanket in around him. The man's stillness worried him and he found himself reaching out to confirm that the faint pulse was still there. It was. "Dad," he whispered, eyes locked on the weather ravaged face, "he's been hurt… a lot." His fingers slipped from the pulse point to caress the chill skin behind one cold reddened ear in a familiar, soothing gesture. "Who would do this and why?"

Jonathan shook his head as he put the truck into motion, easing them back onto the road. "I don't know, Clark. I really don't know."

~~~~~~~~~

Jonathan watched his son settle the newest "stray" into the sleeper bunk. The young man was pale and still in Clark's arms and Jonathan wondered at the stranger's chance of survival. The Kansas cold wasn't something to be taken lightly and the pallor of the bare legs spoke of a fairly lengthy exposure. He moved to the driver's seat and adjusted the seat and mirror settings as Clark finished tending to their guest.

"Dad, he's been hurt… a lot."

The confusion and pain in his boy's voice tore at Jonathan. Clark had always had such a tender heart. For all his strength and gifts, his boy could be so easily hurt by the pain of others. It was just one more thing that he and Martha had tried to protect as they'd raised their special son, compassion for his fellow beings.

"Who would do this, and why?"

He wished he had answers for Clark, but he didn't. He couldn't imagine leaving anyone out in a Kansas winter like this young man had been left. And he had to have been left, for who would wander out like that on their own? He wondered if perhaps the young man was an escaped mental patient, but he knew there were no such facilities nearby. To be honest, there was *nothing* nearby. So where had the young man come from? Clark's words drew his eyes back to the young man and he took in the now revealed face and the bruises and cuts that marred the slack features. Those weren't self-inflicted. Jonathan knew the capacity for cruelty that existed in the human psyche, had seen it first hand too many times. But it had been a very long time since it had hit so close to home. He watched Clark soothe the young man, his fingers gently brushing that odd spot behind the ear that had always fascinated Clark as a child. Martha had wondered if it was a gesture that Clark had remembered from his birth parents, an unconscious gesture that comforted Clark as much as it did the person being touched. They'd never been sure, but Jonathan watched as the touch worked its magic on both young men, the lines of pain and fatigue slowly melting from both expressions.

He took a deep breath and turned back around, easing the truck back onto the highway and towards home. He silently vowed that he'd find whoever had hurt the young man now in their care and see them brought to justice. No one deserved to be left to die alone in an abandoned field in the middle of nowhere. No one. Shifting through the gears with practiced ease he gave Clark the only answer he could. "I don't know, Clark. I really don't know." But he would damn sure find out.

Pushing away the darkening thoughts Jonathan focused on their more immediate problems. "How's he doing, son?"

"He's so cold he's stopped shivering," Clark answered, worry evident in his voice. "He spoke a little when I reached him and then passed out. He's been out ever since."

"Why don't you climb under that quilt with him? You're better than this old rig's heater any day," he teased hoping to lighten Clark's mood at least a bit. "Besides, he seemed to calm when you were closer. We're not too far out now, about 25 minutes or so, and your mom's got a hot meal and broth waiting. She'll know how best to look after him. Just keep him calm and try to slowly raise his core temperature. That's about all we can do right now."

Clark nodded and climbed into the crowded bunk, curling close to the chilled form and wrapping the homemade quilt around them both. Jonathan risked a look back at them and smiled at the picture the two boys made. Clark's dark hair peeking out from underneath the colorful blanket that had traveled in the every truck Jonathan had ever driven since Martha had given it to him for Christmas the year she'd finally agreed to marry him. That blanket had been Clark's favorite since the minute they'd curled him up in it the night they'd found him wandering, naked and alone, amidst the chaos of a burned out field. Jonathan wondered if Clark knew there was one exactly like it hidden away in his mother's cedar chest for when he decided to move out on his own. Not that they were anxious to see him go but Jonathan knew that someday the converted loft in the family barn wouldn't be enough for the young man and his own family. Seeing the tender way Clark held the other young man made Jonathan wonder if the day was coming sooner than either he or Martha suspected.

"Did you find anything around him that might tell us who he is, Clark? Or even where he might have come from?" Jonathan asked.

"No, sir," Clark answered. "He was the only thing out there and I didn't see any tracks other than his."

Jonathan nodded, making mental notes as he listened. "Which direction did he come from?"

Clark thought a moment. "South, from the old Sanderson Place, maybe?" Clark's voice dropped as he soothed the injured man who'd begun to shift uneasily under the blanket.

Jonathan tried not to focus on the deep rumble that his son's voice had become. It was hard for him to remember sometimes that Clark wasn't a little boy anymore. It seemed like only yesterday that the Heavens had opened up and gifted him and Martha with their own special child. Even with all the tragedy and change that the meteor shower had brought to Smallville, Jonathan couldn't bring himself to regret that night. Not when it had brought them Clark. "He all right?"

"Yeah, I think so," came Clark's uncertain reply. "He seems to settle down when I talk to him. Maybe he's worried he's still alone?"

Jonathan nodded. "You concentrate on getting him warmed up and I'll call in and have Dan meet us out at the house. We'll need to see if anyone's reported him missing if nothing else."

"Makes sense," Clark murmured in agreement, his attention focused on the now slightly shivering body in his arms. "He's warming up at least. He's started shivering."

Jonathan hoped the shivering was a good sign. He'd have to make sure that he refreshed himself on hypothermia treatments before his next first aid certification was due. Attention divided between the road and the situation behind him, he fastened on the hands free earpiece and punched in the code of the Smallville Police Department.

"Smallville Police Department. This is Barbara. How can I help you?"

"Barbara, this is Jonathan Kent."

"Oh, Jon. Thank GOD you called in," the dispatcher-slash-secretary exclaimed. "How far out are you?"

"About 25 minutes or so. Why?" he asked, worried by the unexpected greeting. "What's going on? Where's Dan?"

"He's in the field," came the harried answer. "There was a really messy accident up on highway 60 right at the county line. Couple of kids decided to steal a truck and take a joyride. They tried to beat one of the freight haulers out of Newton to the crossing there at 135th. They lost."

"Damn," Jonathan cursed softly. "Some of ours?"

"No," Barbara reassured. "Four kids from Spivey in for the ball game. Truck belonged to Paul Stevens' boy, the star forward this year."

Jonathan shook his head. "Idiots."

The dispatcher chuckled mirthlessly. "Wait. It gets better. The train was headed for Vulcan Chemical. And it was loaded."

Jonathan startled at the news and looked over his shoulder to see if Clark was listening in as well. Their eyes met and the younger man nodded, clearly alert to the conversation. "Do they need us?" Clark asked softly. Jonathan shrugged.

"Barbara. Clark wants to know if you need us."

"Not sure yet, Jon," she answered. "The volunteer fire department's already reported to the scene and the ones officially off duty are waiting here on standby should they be needed, but it looks like the seals on the cars held. One of the kids survived and the engineer had some minor injuries but Kyle and the EMTs have already transported them to Hutchinson. BUT, Dan's out there dealing with the Sheriff's Office, the Highway Patrol, the train authority and the county HazMat team. And apparently Samuels from Pratt County has already started a pissing contest of whose scene it actually is." She sighed in exasperation. "I swear that idiot has a death wish."

It was Jonathan's turn to chuckle. "No, just delusions of adequacy."

Barbara's laughter danced over the phone connection making Jonathan smile. "I'll have to remember that, Jon. It's **so** appropriate." She sobered. "We may need to put you back into rotation early, if you don't mind. I know you usually get a week to settle back in before you return to active duty, but I'm afraid Dan's gonna be tied up with this thing for a while and…"

"It's not a problem, Barbara," he interrupted. "I'll let Martha know I'm on call. Just tell Dan I'm around if he needs anything."

"Thanks, hon." The older woman paused. "You didn't call just to let me know you were headed back," she said. "Did you need Dan?"

Jonathan thought for a moment before answering. "No. I just wanted his input on a stray Clark and I rescued out near the old Sanderson place," he hedged, not wanting to say more over an unsecured line, just in case. "But you might have Kyle drop by after they're back from Hutch if he's up to it. And let Dan know he's invited out for some of Martha's stew and a piece of pie when he's free. I'll talk to him then."

"Understood," Barbara responded. Jonathan could almost see her perk up at the request, her natural curiosity flaring. "Anything else I can do?"

"No. I think we're good," he reassured. "I'll check in when we get settled at the house. If you need us before then, call the cell."

"Will do, Jon. Tell that boy of yours we've got *all* manner of rearranging for him to help with once his stray is settled in." Clark chuckled, knowing there was heavy moving in his future. "See you soon. Be careful."

"We will be," Jonathan responded before ending the call.

"Thanks for having her contact Kyle, just in case, dad."

Jonathan nodded. "Sounds like he might not be back for a while though, will he be okay until then?"

Clark focused on the young man for a long moment before responding. "I think so. I don't see any signs of internal bleeding or anything. But I'm worried about frostbite on his extremities. I *think* it'll be ok without Kyle, but," he paused, clearly unhappy with what he was about to suggest. "It would be good to have Kyle look at it, just in case."

"Better safe than sorry," he answered absently. That was one of the mixed blessings brought about by the meteors, the Gifts. Mutations and special abilities brought on by the radiation from the meteor rocks that affected the citizens of Smallville in unexpected ways. Kyle had been one of the first, a healer whose Gift took its toll on the sweet young man. The healing always took a lot of energy from the energetic blond and so the town protected him, from himself most of the time as the boy would push past his limits and risk his own health if he thought he could help. If the stranger could be helped by conventional means then all the better, but he knew Kyle wouldn't forgive them if they let the man lose fingers or toes when Kyle could have prevented it. So they'd do what they could and hope it wasn't necessary to ask Kyle to do more. "Why don't you settle in with him? I'm gonna let your mom know what's going on."

"Thanks, dad."

"You're welcome, son."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was flying. The wind buffeting him as his angel held him close and flew over the chilled field that should have been his final resting place. SHOULD have been. Then his angel found him.

Awareness, slow in coming as heat seared into his chilled flesh; he was burning. Was this hell?

His angel's voice, soothing, calming. Familiar scents curled around him, held him tight, scents from a lifetime ago. Flowers and baking spice underlain with a hint of masculine warmth that settled his fears as it had so long ago. He burrowed deep under the softness as he'd done as a child, knowing there was safety there now, just like there had been then. His angel had brought him back here, back to the safety he'd found as a child. He'd thought he was going to die that day, with the certainty of a lost and frightened nine-year old. But he'd survived. He wondered if this was his angel's way of helping him hold on this time. Bringing him back to where he'd found hope before, where he'd been found and cared for.

Or maybe he'd just been brought here so he could fall into death unafraid.

As long as his angel was with him until the end, he wasn't sure he cared which it was.

He drifted, aware then unaware then aware again. It became too tiring to try and make sense of the images, the sounds, so he let himself drift. A deep, masculine voice sounded in the distance. Familiar. Safe. Not his angel, but still a voice he trusted. He relaxed as the growling voice made the world vibrate around him. Warmth settled behind him, solid and searing and so wonderfully welcome. He relaxed into the heat as the world grayed.

Pain and fire and screams. A scarecrow falling towards him wreathed in flame, its pale lips calling his name. The Sky Was Falling! Falling and burning and… FATHER! Please, Father. I won't wander again, I swear. Don't leave me here. Please. I'll be good.

"Shh. You're safe," a voice promised, breaking through the visions of heat and pain. "You're safe now. Just relax. That's it."

He did as he was told. He was a good boy. He could be good. See? But his body shook. No matter what he did it shook. _I'm sorry._ His thought little more than a muted, wretched plea. His body refused to obey, shaking and shaking… threatening to come apart as the searing heat burned up the pieces that broke free. He wouldn't cry. He was strong. He could do this. He could let the other escape. Keep the other safe. Keep them all safe. If only he could stop shaking.

"It's just your body trying to get warm," a voice, his angel's voice, soothed. The gentle murmur washed over him again, loosening the knots of fear and pain, helping him relax into the ether that tugged at his awareness. "You're safe now, I swear it." Fingers caressed his skin, branding him. Would the brand remain once he was dead? Would it be there for all to see, to see the angel's mark on his skin? Or would it fade with his life-force, existing only in this twilight where he was held safe in strong arms surrounded by a long ago scene of safety and caring? Did it matter, really?

The world around him fell away and gentle laughter following his exhausted body down to complete oblivion.

~~~~~~~~~~

The familiar sound of the older model Peterbuilt pulling to a stop in the drive-way drew Martha away from her sink-full of dishes. Drying her hands on the dishtowel she crossed the warm kitchen and opened to door to the back porch. The snow was starting to come down harder now and Martha was glad her boys were home. The radio had said a front was moving in and that the gentle flurries of the early evening could quickly turn to a heavier, thicker fall by morning. She hoped Clark's newest rescue wasn't hurt too badly, because if the weather did turn, getting him to a hospital might prove problematic. Hopefully between the three of them, and possibly Kyle, they'd be more than enough to help the young man.

She watched as Jonathan handed down the blanket wrapped form to Clark. She held the screen door open, ushering her son and his burden inside. "The spare room's made up, sweetie. Just make sure to turn off the electric blanket after you get him settled. The sheets should be just warm enough to help bring his temp up without making things worse." She drew one pale hand from beneath the blankets, tisking at the hard, cold skin on his elegant fingers. "Frostbite. Put his hands under the covers as well. I'll bring up a basin of warm water and towels, we'll need to see what other areas have been damaged. We'll need to see if we can get them thawed before they're permanently damaged." She shook her head. Looked like they'd be needing Kyle after all. She sighed, her fingers brushing over the young man's high, pale forehead. "We'll do what we can, sweetie," she promised the stranger.

She startled as dazed gray eyes opened and locked on her face.

"Mama?"

She smiled at the young man, her hand stroking his reddening cheek. "It's all right," she said softly. "You're safe."

" 'm cold, mama." The brow furrowed. "Burns," he added in obvious confusion.

"I know, sweetie," she soothed, urging Clark towards the stairs, walking with them. "We're gonna help that, or at least try to. Just relax. You're okay."

A sleepy nod was the only reply she got as the young man relaxed once more against Clark's broad chest. She smiled at her own son. "Go on. I'll be up in just a minute."

"Yes, ma'am," Clark replied, leaning in to kiss his mother's cheek. "Thanks."

She watched as he moved up the stairs, careful of the fragile form in his arms.

"Your boy did real good, Martha Kent." Strong arms wrapped around her waist and she leaned back into her husband's embrace. "That boy would have died if Clark hadn't spotted him."

She nodded. "Has he said anything? Do we know who he is?" she asked as she turned and stole a quick kiss from Jonathan. She moved into the kitchen and poured a measure of the steaming water from the tea pot into a crockery bowl. She handed the bowl to her husband and gathered up the waiting towels, medical kit and bandages. Jonathan scowled as the heat from the bowl burned at his lightly chilled hands, but he didn't complain as he followed his wife up the stairs.

"No. He's mumbled a bit but nothing we could make too much sense of. Seems to calm when Clark talks to him though."

Martha smiled as she rounded the corner to the find Clark kneeling on the floor beside the guest bed, whispering to the young man while tenderly stroking the skin behind one cold reddened ear. Clearing her throat she was pleased that Clark didn't automatically pull away from the other man. They'd tried to make sure he never felt ashamed for being compassionate towards another being and it was good to know they'd succeeded. She brought in the towels and handed them to Clark. "We'll need to see about getting his fingers and toes warmed to keep the tissue damage to a minimum." She moved efficiently around the bed, checking the young man's ears, nose, and toes as well as his other hand. All were red with the cold but didn't show signs of deep tissue damage, for which she was grateful. The young man whimpered as Clark bathed the chilled ears with a warm cloth. She ran her hand over his head, dislodging the hood. She was surprised when her palm met chilled skin rather than hair and she looked at Clark.

"No hair except eye lashes and eye brows," he said softly. "And those look synthetic."

She studied the young man, surprised at how vulnerable and young he looked lying against the dark blue sheets. "Oh, sweetie," she sighed, "what happened to you?"

~~~~~~

Red hair and kind eyes. Mama. Now he knew he was dead, or at least dying. Mama had said she'd see them again. He just hoped Jules understood why he couldn't wait. He'd tried. Really he had. But it was so warm now. Warm and safe and his angel was here, telling him it was going to be okay. And there wasn't any more pain. Not like before anyway.

His mind was fuzzy, disconnected. He felt hands moving over him, gentle and caring. Soft voices, male and female, were drifting in and out of his awareness. He wasn't cold anymore, and his fingers and toes no longer burned. But he was so very tired.

"Then just sleep, son," a male voice urged. "Go ahead and sleep. You're safe now."

He whimpered at the thought of sleeping, his body fighting to stay awake, alert. He had to be alert. Had to find a way to follow Jules, find a way home. He couldn't sleep.

A work roughened hand soothed over his forehead. "It's all right. Just relax. No one's going to hurt you, not while you're here."

_//All you have to do is tell us where he went and we'll stop.//_

He struggled. He couldn't tell them. He had to give Jules time to get away. He struggled against the hand urging him back. "No. Won't."

"Clark. I need you," the man called.

He struggled harder, needing to get away before the other came. He couldn't fight them both. He had to move, protect himself. He couldn't heal that fast, not if there wasn't time between the injuries. Keep Jules Safe! It's what other brothers did. He had to keep Jules safe.

_//AJ! Come with me. We can do this.//_

But he couldn't. He'd slow him down and he had to make sure Jules was safe.

Large hands caught him, pushing him back on to a bed. He fought, struggling as best he could but the hands were too strong, catching his flailing hands and pinning them. Holding him as if he were little more than a child.

Tears welled up in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. Big boys didn't cry. Ever! Even when the sky was falling and the scarecrow was chasing him, dragging him back to the fiery pit that use to be a field. He was burning up. The heat seared at his hands, his face. But he didn't cry. He'd make Father proud. He would. But he was so scared. And so tired. Please.

Fingers, cool and damp, brushed over his forehead, down his cheek and across his neck. He stilled, afraid. Then the familiar touch of his angel; caressing fingers rubbed over the soft spot between the ear and the jaw hinge then up and down the heavy bone behind his ear. He leaned into the touch, relaxing, know now he was safe. His angel would keep him safe. "my angel," he whispered. "you found me."

The fingers never stopped the oddly intimate caress. "You found us," his angel corrected. "And now you're safe. Relax and sleep. Your body needs sleep to heal."

He nodded, his eyes too heavy to even attempt to open them. Besides, he didn't need to see his angel to know he was there. The fingers drew away and he reached out blindly for them. "no," he pleaded, hating his own weakness. "don't go."

The bed dipped and he felt an otherworldly warmth settle against his side. "I'll be right here," his angel whispered, "So sleep now. I'll keep you safe."

He burrowed into the angel's warmth and allowed oblivion to take him.

~~~~~

Martha opened the backdoor and ushered in the cold and exhausted young EMT standing on her porch. "Kyle Duden, you did not need to come out here in this," she scolded. She took his snow dampened coat and ushered him into a chair, immediately going for the ever present hot water and home-made cocoa mix. "We told Barbara to send you home when you finally got in."

The blond blushed and gratefully accept the hot cocoa, taking a small sip before answering. "She told me that, Mrs. Kent. But with the weather turning, I was worried I might not be able to get here in the morning, so I decided to stop by just in case."

She smiled at Clark's year-mate. "We appreciate that, Kyle. But after the accident, we don't want you taxing yourself any more."

"No, ma'am. I understand that. But I had time to recharge on the trip back from Hutch, so I should be fine." He took a swallow of the hot cocoa, savoring the mild burn as it warmed him from the inside out. "Unless of course Clark's stray is at death's door. THEN it might take a bit more rest. Which, if you don't mind me crashing on the couch like I did during finals week in high school, won't be a problem." He grinned, looking up at Martha from under long, curling bangs. "Especially if you're making biscuits and gravy in the morning."

Martha chuckled. "You know you're welcome to stay, Kyle. And with the weather turning, you might want to anyway." She reached out and ruffled the damp hair. "And you'll have to argue with Jonathan about breakfast. He's already requested buttermilk pancakes."

"Pancakes are good!" Kyle answered eagerly, chuckling at the familiar raised eyebrow from his "second mom". He sobered and looked towards the stairs. "So, the guest room?"

Martha nodded. "Just like always."

Kyle took another long swallow of his hot cocoa before pushing back from the table and making his way up the stairs. He paused in the doorway to the guest room, shaking his head as he took in the scene. Jonathan Kent sat in the overstuffed chair, the book he'd been reading laying abandoned on his chest as he lightly snored, sound asleep where he sat. His blond hair, touched with silver gray at the temples, was almost as disheveled as Kyle's own. Clark Kent lay on the bed, also asleep, his newest stray curled up tight against his chest.

Clark's dark hair framed his classically handsome face in soft waves like Michelangelo's David come to life. Kyle sighed, mildly jealous of his friend's complete obliviousness to his own attractiveness and the affect it had on others. Shaking his head, he moved quietly into the room to study his friend's newest rescue.

The stray was… striking, was the only word Kyle could find for the other man, pale and obviously too thin, with high cheekbones and delicate features, accentuated by the complete lack of hair. The skin Kyle could see held the faint discoloration of old bruises and half-healed cuts and scrapes. The occasional shiver shook the thin frame and Kyle watched as each shiver stirred Clark into wakefulness *just* enough for his friend to soothe the stray back to sleep. The man clung to Clark, his long, bandaged fingers curled into Clark's shirt in a death grip, as if he was afraid Clark would disappear, and perhaps, in his mind, Clark might. Kyle couldn't help but wonder where Clark had found *this* one and what his story might be.

Hazel eyes blinked open and Kyle smiled at his friend. "Hey there. Leave it to you to find yet ANOTHER stray just before the holidays."

Clark stuck his tongue out at his friend, smiling. "Yeah, well. It keeps Christmas from being dull." He shifted the sleeping man gently and sat up so he could talk easier with Kyle without waking his guest. "I thought mom and dad said you wouldn't be by," he questioned. "He's not bad enough to risk you draining yourself."

"Relax, boy wonder," Kyle teased. "I'm just here to look and make sure everything's okay with the newest Kent foundling. Wouldn't do to have one kick off after you went to the trouble of saving him." He sat down in the chair beside the bed and smiled at Clark. "So what's this one's story?"

"No idea," Clark answered truthfully. "Found him near the old Sanderson place, hurt pretty bad and nearly naked. I couldn't just leave him there."

Kyle shook his head. "Only you, Clark." He tentatively reached out to touch one of the bandaged hands, centering himself and calling his Gift to the fore. "We have ***so*** got to find out what you did in a past life to get this Gift, my man. Not that we who have benefited from said Gift are complaining, mind you. But it's gotta be hell for you."

"He always said he wanted a lot of brothers and sisters," came a sleepy voice from across the room. "We figured this was his way of getting them." Jonathan smiled at the new comer. "Hey, Kyle. Should I make up the couch?"

Kyle smiled at Jonathan. "Well… it *is* snowing pretty heavy outside," he teased.

"He's just here for the pancakes, dad." Clark added with a grin.

"Well, your mom does make the best in the county."

"You're just biased, Jonathan," came Martha's laughing reply from the doorway.

Kyle rose and took the basin of warm water from Martha and moved back to the bedside. "No. He's right, Mrs. Kent. Best in the county."

Martha smiled, shaking her head at her "boys". "You three are going to give me a swelled head, if you keep this up." She stood behind Kyle and watched as he slowly unwrapped the bandaged hands. She looked at Clark. "Any change, sweetie?"

Clark shook his head. "He was really restless for a while when dad was watching him, but he calmed down when I came in." He ran tentative fingers over the man's cheek. "Once he curled up *on* me, he went straight to sleep. He hasn't moved and seems completely dead to the world." He pointed to the still sleeping figure. "And apparently his body needs it if he didn't wake up with all this."

Kyle nodded. "The human body is an incredible thing. It tends to know what it needs to heal better than *we* do sometimes." He finished unwrapping the fingers and stared at them in confusion. "I thought you said he had frostbite?" He took the red but healthy looking fingers in his own, examining them closely. "He looks fine to me." He looked up at Martha in confusion. Mrs. Kent wouldn't make such a mistake, heck, she'd help him when he was studying for his EMT certification and had known more than he could ever *hope* to.

Martha studied young man's hand, as confused at Kyle. "He did, Kyle; hard, cold skin, possible tissue damage. I was surprised he wasn't in the more advanced stages considering how long he must have been out in the cold." She looked up at Clark then to Jonathan. "Did he have any blisters or anything when you brought him to the truck?"

Jonathan shrugged but Clark tentatively nodded. "I think so. I was more concerned with getting his core temperature up, but I think there may have been a few."

Martha and Kyle looked at each other, then at the young man sleeping so peacefully against Clark's chest. Kyle took a deep breath and then touched his hand to the sleeping man's hand. His eyes widened as skin touched skin, his gaze flickering to the man's face and then back to where his fingers rested against pale skin. "Clark," he asked softly, "Are you feeling anything when I touch him?"

Clark shook his head. "No. He's relaxed. He might be just a touch warmer, but other than that no."

Kyle drew his hand back and fell back further into the chair, his eyes never leaving the still form.

"Kyle?" Jonathan asked, concerned.

"He's one of us," he whispered to Clark. "He has to be."

"What?" Clark looked down at the stranger in his arms then back up to the young healer. "How can he be one of us? The meteors only affected those who suffered prolonged exposure."

"Well," Kyle counted. "Maybe there was another shower somewhere else. Or maybe there's some *other* method out there that affects people the way the shower did. But, Clark," he looked down at the still figure resting so peacefully against Clark's chest, "I've never felt anything like this *except* from another Gifted."

~~~~ ~

The next several days passed in a blur of snow and work and tending to their ill guest. The snow finally stopped, but not before many of the side roads were impassable. Kyle stayed with the family, adding his healing touch where he could but mostly helping Martha with the stranger's bodily needs when Clark and Jonathan were working, Jonathan with the Police and Clark driving the sand trucks with the road cleaning crews.

The stranger did little more than sleep and heal, only stirring when Clark or Martha urged him to drink a bit of broth or water to keep him hydrated. Kyle sat with the other man as often as he could, saying that the man's energies were rejuvenating. He'd aided a bit in the healing, drawing off the spike of a fever on the second day that they traced to an unnoticed infection that the man's body was already fighting off. The healing had left him recharged rather than drained, which only convinced Kyle further that this man was another of the meteor Gifted.

"Kyle," Clark patiently countered, "we've tracked **all** the Smallville kids who were exposed to the meteors and he isn't one of them. Besides, we've never found one whose healing ability was altered like this."

"So, maybe we missed one," he said around a mouthful of pie. "I think we should call Chloe. If anyone could track this, it would be Miss Wall of Odd herself."

"She's too busy for this, Kyle," Clark chided, not bothering to tell Kyle he'd already called Chloe and been told she was away on assignment and wouldn't be back for several days. "Besides, he'll probably be able to tell us everything once he wakes up."

Kyle didn't look convinced but let the subject drop. That night, the stranger in question finally woke up completely, leaving them with more questions than answers.

~~~~

_//JULES! Leave him ALONE!_

_\- It's ok, AJ. It doesn't hurt that bad. Honest. I'll be ok.//_

Hands touching, hurting, soothing? He had to get away, had to let Jules get away. He struggled to bring his mind into focus. And failed.

~ ~ ~

_//There's safety in anonymity. I know you don't think you can be anonymous, but you can be. You're smart and resourceful and if anyone can stay unnoticed, AJ, it's you. You've had enough practice to be a master.//_

Stay small and quiet. He doesn't yell if you're quiet. They can't find you if they don't know where to start looking.

~ ~ ~

_//Wanna be like you._

_\- No you don't, squirt._

_\- Uh huh!_

_\- No you don't. Trust me on this one._

_\- Do SO! Wanna be JUST like you when I grow up. You're special and I wuv you, AJ. AJ? Don't cry, AJ. Please don't cry.//_

~ ~ ~

_//Rub it in, Einstein. Not all of us can be rocket scientists._

_\- You're just jealous because I know where all the good geek sites and cheat codes are._

_\- Maaaybe. So, you're gonna show me where the ones are for Burn Out, right?_

_\- Only if you let me play against you first._

_\- Bring it on, Big Bro, I can kick your ass even without the cheat codes. Always have, always will.//_

~ ~ ~

Quiet. Stillness. They were finally alone.

~ ~ ~

_//You have to go, Jules. It's your only chance. I'll be okay._

_\- Tired of me so soon?_

_\- No. But the decor stinks and you can't even manage to hold up your end of the conversation anymore._

_\- Kinda hard to when your conversation partner keeps passing out._

_\- I'll talk to the management about that.//_

~ ~ ~

Hands arranging his shattered leg as gently as possible while he fights back a scream. He can't go; he'd only slow them down; keep them from getting away. Struggling, but knowing what has to be done.

~ ~ ~

_//It's you're only chance, baby brother. Take it, before they realize how stupid it was to leave us without a chaperone._

_\- Brian and Dom would never have made that mistake.//_

A painful chuckle.

_//Brian and Dom are gonna kick our asses when we finally make it home._

_\- Which is why you need to go. Find them and they'll find me._

_\- I'm not leaving you._

_\- Yes you are. You have to!//_

~ ~ ~

Noises, feet on the stairs, creaking boards. They're coming.

_//Come with me, AJ. We can do this!_

_\- Don't argue with me! We don't have much time. Go!//_

Scrambling with broken boards, an accidentally discovered and carefully hidden way out. Movement above, getting closer. Shoving away his lifeline to sanity, protecting him. Sending him off quietly and sealing his own fate with the push of a board.

_//I'll be back for you, AJ.// muffled but understandable. He can almost feel the heat of a reassuring hand against his back… impossible through the wood, but there, none the less._

_//Be safe, Jules,//_ he whispers, the panic of being alone slowly closing in. 

Angry voices. Pain. New voices and even more pain. But the other is safe. They tell him by their questions, their anger. He can't help but smile. Then they leave him alone. Completely alone in the cold and the dark. The stink of his own fear and waste and blood thick in his nose.

"Don't leave me," his voice broken, torn by fear and pain.

~ ~ ~

"No one's leaving. You're safe."

His eyes opened, taking in the unfamiliar, cheery room. Blue gingham curtains muted the light coming in from the wide windows. A soft, warm blanket covered his nude body, a body that no longer hurt.

"Would you like some water?"

He turned towards the voice. The man was older, with blonde hair shot through with silver-gray. His eyes were kind, gentle and he relaxed as the man leaned closer.

"I'm Jonathan Kent," he said. "You're in my home and you're safe. My son and I found you four days ago and brought you here. You'd been injured but you're healing nicely. And I promise you you're safe with us."

He nodded, eyes darting warily to the glass of clear liquid in the man's hand. The man, Jonathan, smiled and moved closer, easing his body up gently and holding the glass while he drank thirstily. Too soon the glass taken away.

"Not too much," he said kindly, "we don't want you getting sick."

He was helped back down to the pillows and was stunned by how weak he was. He met the ma… Jonathan's, eyes. "What happened?"

Jonathan shook his head. "We were hoping you could tell us."

He thought, trying to capture the shattered fragments of dreams and visions he knew he'd had before. They slipped like mercury through his fingers. He fought to find them, knowing they were important, growling in frustration when they slipped further and further away. A hand to his arm pulled him from the exhausting circle of his musing.

"Easy. It's all right. It'll come." Jonathan smiled at him reassuringly. "Let's start simpler. What's your name, and we'll go from there?"

He opened his mouth to answer and found he couldn't. How could he not know his own name? What had happened? He looked at Jonathan, panic rising, tightening his gut as even that simply task was beyond him. Jonathan's eyes were sympathetic.

 _//I'll be back for you, AJ.//_ a young man's voice sounded in his head. It felt familiar, safe.

"AJ?" he offered, uncertain.

Jonathan nodded. "Well, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, AJ."

"Thank you, sir," he answered automatically, his mind whirling as he tried to sort out the jumble in his head.

"Hey! He's awake!"

"Just now. Clark, I'd like you to meet AJ. AJ, this is my son, Clark."

He turned to study the newcomer and stalled as he recognized the achingly familiar face of his angel. "You're real?"

Clark smiled. "Was last time I looked," he teased gently. "How are you feeling?"

AJ thought for a moment. "Confused."

Jonathan nodded. "I'm not surprised, AJ. Don't worry; it'll clear up in time." He rose from the chair and ushered Clark into it. "I'm gonna go tell your mother our guest is finally awake." He turned his attention back to AJ. "You think you're up to eating something?"

AJ's stomach growled before he could answer. He blushed, nodding sheepishly.

Jonathan chuckled. "It's all right, son. It's only natural you'd be hungry after four days of just broth and water."

"Four months, sir," he corrected automatically, his eyes once more taking in the flesh and blood young man beside him. He'd been so sure it was an angel.

"You don't say," Jonathan answered easily, meeting his son's eyes and urging him to stay silent. "That long without a good meal?"

"Depending on the date of course," AJ answered distractedly. "It might have been longer. I kind of lost track towards the end."

"Towards the end of what?" Jonathan prodded gently.

Blue-gray eyes turned and studied Jonathan. Jonathan had seen eyes like that before, haunted and wary as they studied a stranger in a uniform who was offering to help them escape a life of abuse and violence. Trying to decide if the officer could be trusted with their secret, or if telling would only make the pain worse. He couldn't help but wonder what had happened to AJ to put that look there, and if it had taken longer than the four months AJ had been referring to. He met those eyes and tried to convey the same sense of understanding and support that he offered the abuse victims he dealt with in the course of his work as a police officer first with the Sheriff's office and then with the Smallville Police Department. He waited.

"The end of the torture, sir," was the hushed reply.

Jonathan closed his eyes, hearing his fears given voice. Inhaling a calming breath and not daring to look at his own son, he locked eyes with the young stranger and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Do you know who they were, AJ? The people who hurt you?" he kept his voice calm with difficulty, falling back on witness interviewing techniques he'd learned as a rookie. The young man shook his head, his brow furrowing. Jonathan smiled encouragingly. "That's all right. Do you know why they were hurting you? Were they asking about anything specific?"

The blue-gray eyes darkened, losing their focus. "They didn't ask anything. Not at first."

"And later," Jonathan led gently.

The thin lips curled upwards lightly. "I didn't tell them a thing."

"About what, AJ?"

The young man's brow furrowed again, the smile dying by slow degrees. "I... I don't know," came the halting answer. He looked up at Jonathan, his eyes troubled, scared. "Why don't I remember? It's important. I know it's important. So why can't I remember?"

Jonathan laid a comforting hand on the young man's leg and nodded his approval as Clark reached out and took hold of the young man's hand. "Because you aren't sure of us, and you've been through a good deal of trauma," Jonathan said. "It's normal for the mind to block things out at first. It will come back in time. Just relax, now. You've done really well," he praised.

The young man slowly calmed, his eyes darting from Jonathan to Clark and back again. "But I didn't tell you anything."

Jonathan chuckled. "We now know that you've most likely been missing for about four months and that your name is AJ. That's more than we knew before and it gives us a good place to start from. That's really well for someone who's been awake for less than five minutes," he said with a smile.

AJ nodded, smiling shyly. "Thank you."

"Thank you, AJ," Jonathan countered, patting the leg through the covers. "Now, I've got a woman downstairs who's been just waiting for the chance to spoil you, young man. So you have been warned," he teased with a wink as he headed out the door.

"You're wrong about one thing though," AJ called. Jonathan turned back, eyebrows raised in question. "I am sure of you." He turned and looked at Clark. "I know I'm safe here. I'm not sure how, but I know I am."

Jonathan nodded. "Good. Because you are, AJ," he confirmed seriously. "And we'll find where you belong, son. I promise."

AJ acknowledged with a slight tilt of his head and the barest hint of a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. But Jonathan was encouraged by the color returning to the young man's cheeks. He smiled at Clark then left to find Martha.

~~~~

AJ waited until Jonathan had left before finally addressing his flesh and blood angel. "You're the one who found me."

His angel smiled. "Yeah."

"I thought you were an angel," AJ blushed at the admission staring down at their still entwined hands.

"I know." The fingers griping his tightened slightly. "But I can introduce you to several people who can tell you otherwise," he joked. "I'm just a simple trucker trying to make a living and," he shrugged, "just trying to do the right thing."

AJ looked up at the dark-haired man; studying the handsome face and feeling something stir within him, something that he couldn't put a name to. "Somehow I doubt there's anything 'simple' about you."

Clark laughed. "Nah. Nothing special here."

AJ decided not to further argue the point. "Where am I?"

"Smallville, Kansas. Actually, about four miles outside of Smallville, Kansas." AJ took in the information without comment. "Ringing any bells?"

AJ shook his head. "No." He let his head fall back onto the pillows, sighing in frustration. "I hate not knowing. I feel like I'm missing something... important." He rolled his head to the side and looked at his savior. "And have I even bothered to say thank you?"

"You don't need to," Clark assured, "But you're welcome."

"I need to tell your family as well. I remember your father and a woman, I assume, is your mother?" he asked tentatively. Clark nodded and AJ smiled. "And... your brother?" At Clark's confused looked he elaborated. "Blond, about your age, with very warm hands."

Clark grinned. "Kyle," he answered. "Not my brother, well, not by blood anyway. But he might as well be considering that my folks claim him almost as much as they do me."

AJ looked at him in confusion.

"Kyle was one of the first 'strays' I brought home," Clark elaborated. "We were both... four or five, I guess. He was going to the daycare up the road and his mom had gotten held up at work. Kyle thought something had happened to her and decided to go find her." Clark smiled at the recollection. "I'd been playing out in the barn while dad worked on one of the trucks and I heard Kyle crying. He'd managed to walk the two miles from Ms. Grand's place and was hiding in the barn." Clark remembered the day like it was yesterday. The small blond had been so scared. He'd lost his father to the meteor shower two years earlier. Mr. Duden had been one of the ones who could have been helped had help been able to reach them. Ever since then Kyle had worried that his mom would 'go away' too if he couldn't find her, leaving him all alone. Even now Kyle kept close contact with his mother, but the fear wasn't nearly as bad. Back then, Clark had found Kyle curled into a tight ball in the back corner of the barn, face streaked with tears and dirt, desperate to find his mother. "Being the curious child I was, I went to see who was crying. When I found Kyle, I decided that if he didn't have anyone, we could keep him."

AJ chuckled at the matter of fact delivery. "So I'm not the first then?"

"No," Clark confirmed. "In fact, it's become kind of a running joke with my friends."

AJ tried to quell the disappointment at the thought of not being something special to this compelling young man. "So did his mom finally find him?" he asked, looking for a distraction from his troubling thoughts.

Clark laughed. "Yeah. That's when it gets really funny." He blushed. "Apparently it took mom and dad almost an hour to convince us that Kyle needed to go with his mom. We've been as close as brothers ever since."

Something stirred in AJ at the words. Unfamiliar yet familiar features swam before his mind's eye. Full, chestnut colored curls. Laughing brown eyes set into a handsome, youthful face. A face he should know. The face of someone... important. He closed his eyes, trying to find the connection, a name, a place, ***something*** that would tell him who that face belonged to.

_//I'll be back for you, AJ.//_

The feel of a slender body, trembling in his arms, the handsome face pale and spattered with blood. Brown eyes trying to hide the pain so obvious in the way he held his wrist. A wrist broken for no more reason than it amused them. _//It's not that bad, AJ. Really.//_ He could feel the panic rising in him, the need to protect this other, to get him away while he still could. He struggled to breathe, a childhood ailment coming back to haunt him as he struggled against the hands holding him. He wouldn't give in. He had to stay strong, had to give the other time to get away. ***He*** could survive this where the other could not. ***He*** was the freak, the one that healed too quickly, the one you could hurt and get away with it because the marks would fade before any of the teachers noticed. The freak cursed with too soft skin and vulnerable, needy eyes that just begged for someone to take advantage. He went passive under the large hands, knowing that fighting only made them want to punish you more, hurt your more.

"Easy," a voice whispered. "Just breathe. Come on. Deep breaths. You're safe."

Fingers brushed the side of his face, wiping away tears he didn't realize had escaped. He tensed, not sure what the show of weakness would earn him. The fingers shifted, tracing over his jaw and up behind his ear; his angel. He whimpered and leaned into the comforting caress.

"It's ok," his angel soothed. "You're safe now."

"I had to protect him," he whispered, his eyes closed against the painful onslaught of half-remembered images. "They broke his wrist, just because they could. I had to keep him safe."

"Who, AJ?" his angel asked gently.

Despair crashed over him, leaking out through his tightly sealed eyelids. "I don't know," he growled brokenly. "I was ready to ***die*** for him and I don't even remember his **NAME**!" He could feel the anger and frustration building and turned anguished eyes on his angel. "Why can't I remember?" The sob that tore free surprised them both but he was powerless to stop it. Strong arms pulled him close as his angel... as _Clark_ moved to sit on the bed beside him. He clung to the strong arms, struggling to hold back the onslaught of emotions fighting to break free.

"We'll find out who he is, AJ," Clark promised, rocking and soothing AJ as best he could. "I promise."

AJ balled up a fist, his nails digging into his palm, and thumped it against Clark's broad chest. He could feel more sobs choking him, closing up his throat and making his vision blur, but he couldn't let them free. If he started, he might never stop. Then soft lips pressed against his temple.

"It's all right. I've got you," Clark murmured against AJ's skin. "And I'm not letting go."

AJ's control broke and he curled into the haven of the young man's arms and wept.

~~~~~

Martha watched the heartbreaking exchange from the shelter of the hallway, just out of the boys' line of sight. She could feel her own tears falling for the lost young man currently crying in her son's arms. Clark was right, they would find who AJ was and who the other young man was that AJ was concerned about. A protectiveness she hadn't felt since a naked little boy had walked out of a flaming cornfield and into their lives 20 years ago grew in her chest. She made a silent vow, then and there to God and to the young man curled against her son. She wouldn't be letting him go either, not without a fight.

~~~~~

Jonathan Kent adjusted the fit of his holster, making sure the service revolver was secure before grabbing his coat and heading down the stairs for breakfast. He'd been back on duty for three days and was still reacquainting himself with the feel of the heavy belt and the weight of responsibility that went with it. He loved being an officer, loved making a difference in his quiet hometown. Somehow it seemed fitting that a hometown troublemaker had gone on to become the one keeping the peace. The kids seemed to respond well to him, many of them knew Clark and were more comfortable talking with "Clark's Dad" than they were their own parents. He didn't mind. He understood it, as his own boy had been more likely to talk to Gabe Sullivan or Dan Daniels than Jonathan when he was growing up. It was just something kids did, even special kids like those in Smallville.

He rounded the corner into the kitchen, smiling as he realized that their guest had finally managed to join them downstairs. The young man was looking a damn sight better than he had a week ago when they'd found him. The bruises were gone, the chapping from the cold healed completely. Now if they could just convince him to go get checked out at the hospital to make sure he was completely ok. But after the panicked reaction last time, Jonathan knew better than to suggest that again. It had taken them almost an hour to calm AJ down and convince him they weren't going to force him to go. The boy knew his own body, even if he still didn't know his name or where he'd come from. The memories would come back when they were ready, and even Jonathan knew there was little a doctor could do to speed that process along. Besides, between Martha, Clark and Kyle AJ was in very capable hands.

"Morning, family," he called, moving around the center island to steal a kiss from his beautiful wife before grabbing a plate from the cabinet. The sound of a scraping chair made him turn and he watched as AJ scrambled backwards, putting the chair between them as he watched Jonathan with wide, wild eyes. Jonathan caught Martha's arm as she started towards the panicked young man, pulling her back slightly so that he stood between her and AJ. "Go get Clark. I think we're going to need him." She nodded, moving quickly out the door towards Clark's loft in the barn. AJ watched her go and Jonathan could see the growing desperation in the pale eyes. "It's all right, son," he soothed. "No one's going to hurt you."

Wary eyes watched him and Jonathan could tell that panic had removed all recognition that might have worked in his favor. He watched, moving slowly forward, putting himself between AJ and the door. "AJ, you're safe here," he said in a low, soft voice. "I need you to relax. You're safe."

AJ shook his head, his eyes darting from Jonathan's chest to his hip. Eyes widening, he scrambled backwards, whimpering as his back collided with the kitchen wall.

It took Jonathan a moment to realize that AJ was staring at his holstered gun. "AJ. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a police officer. We spoke about that. Remember?" He watched as his words had the opposite effect from what he'd intended. AJ's eyes locked on Jonathan's badge and he began to tremble. Jonathan slowly moved his hands to the buckle of his holster, making sure to keep his movements relaxed as he began speaking again. "AJ. You know you're safe here. Even if I were to try to hurt you," he said, smiling gently as he locked eyes with the panicked young man, "Martha and Clark wouldn't let me get by with it." As he spoke he stripped off his holster and eased it to the floor. Blue-gray eyes watched him warily darting from the discarded belt to Jonathan's face then dropping to the silver badge pinned to Jonathan's chest. With a reassuring smile, Jonathan began undoing the buttons on the uniform shirt as well. Keeping his voice light and congenial, he continued his monologue. He was peripherally aware of Clark and Martha standing silently just inside the kitchen door watching the byplay with interest, but he kept his eyes and his focus on AJ. The young man's trembling had lessened, but he was still tensed, ready to bolt if needed. He'd seen the same look in the eyes of hurt animals and cornered fugitives. It hurt seeing in this young man's eyes and knowing that he'd inadvertently caused such distress. As he eased the shirt off his shoulders he smiled conspiratorially at AJ. "You know that Martha would brain me with her favorite skillet if she thought I was even thinking of hurting you," he said, dropping the uniform shirt to the floor beside his holster. "And then Clark would lock me in the cellar until I came to my senses." He grinned, stepping away from the discarded items and closer to AJ. The young man flinched but didn't move away, just continued to watch. Jonathan stilled, his hands loose at his sides, trying to look unthreatening as he stood there in his uniform pants and long sleeved undershirt. "I hate the cellar," he confided to AJ. "Damn thing's *full* of spiders," he said with a genuine shudder, "and I *hate* spiders."

AJ gave him a timid smile, leaning back against the wall, eyes no longer quite as panicked.

Jonathan stepped slowly closer until he could reach out and lay a hand on one of AJ's slender shoulders. "So you want to tell me what has you so spooked, son?" he asked gently.

AJ released a shaking breath before reaching up and latching onto Jonathan's wrist like a lifeline. "I'm sorry," he whispered roughly.

Jonathan gently squeezed the shoulder under his hand. "No need to apologize, AJ. I just need you to tell me what happened, so we can keep it from happening again. I don't want you panicking every time you see me in uniform." He titled his head down just enough to meet the down turned face. "Any ideas?"

AJ's voice was rough and low. "You're not supposed to be scared of officers of the law, but when I saw the badge and the gun all I wanted to do was run. I just knew that I had to get as far away from you," he paused, his smooth brow furrowing. "No. Not from you," he corrected, "from someone else. Someone with a badge and a gun." He looked up at Jonathan. "I... Am I a criminal?"

"NO." Clark's response was vehement as he crossed the kitchen to stand beside his father.

Grey eyes searched his face. "How can you be so sure, Clark? I mean, who else is afraid of police officers? Why else would I want to put as much distance between myself and your father simply because he's a police officer?" AJ ran a trembling hand over his smooth scalp, the unconscious motion betraying his fear and anxiety about the situation.

"I don't know, AJ," Clark answered truthfully, moving closer to AJ. "But we'll find out. And I'm positive it's not because you're a criminal."

AJ turned his gaze on each member of his new "family" and silently prayed that his angel was right.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jonathan hung up his uniform and quietly climbed into bed.

"I was starting to worry."

Jonathan startled a bit at his wife's sleepy voice, smiling at his own folly of thinking he could settle into the bed without disturbing her. He leaned in and kissed her sleep-warm cheek before wrapping her in his arms. "Sorry. I should have called but Dan and I got to talking."

"I thought Dan was taking a few days off?" Martha asked. "Is everything okay?"

Jonathan nodded. "It's fine. I just wanted an outside opinion on a few things."

"Like AJ?"

Jonathan chuckled and hugged her closer. "Yeah, like AJ."

Martha propped herself up on her elbow so she could see Jonathan's face in the moonlight coming in through the curtains. "And?" she prompted. "What did you find out?"

"Nothing concrete," he hedged. He could feel Martha's expectant gaze on him. He should have known that wouldn't satisfy his red-head in full mother-hen mode. "He's not a criminal, but we're still not sure just what happened to him." He pulled Martha into his arms, not wanting to face the conclusion that they'd thought might be the most likely cause of AJ's reaction.

"But you have a theory," Martha said quietly.

Jonathan brushed a soft kiss over Martha's forehead. He leaned his cheek against her hair, hugging her close. "Yeah. But I don't like it." Martha's arms tightened around him in silent support. "I told Dan about Kyle's theory that AJ may be one of our gifted kids, one no one knew about. He's wondering if AJ didn't run into a 'cop' like Phalen."

Martha's sharp intake of breath told Jonathan she remembered the violent man who'd come around masquerading as a State Trooper during Clark's senior year of high school. It had been an end of innocence for all of them, gifted and non-gifted alike. He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of responsibility settling around his shoulders like it had back then. "If he did, we're going to have to be very careful with our inquiries. Dan's going to keep it to people we know and trust, just in case." He nuzzled his wife's hair, breathing in her clean, familiar scent. "It may take longer, but at least he'll be safe."

Martha could hear the pain and frustration in Jonathan's voice. She leaned back and caught his face between her palms, drawing him down to her. "You're a good man, Jonathan Kent," she breathed against his lips. "And I'm so very glad I married you." She kissed him softly, offering him her comfort and strength for the long task to come.

~~~~~~~~~

AJ growled in frustration as the knife slipped wrong, yet again, slicing deep into the soft wood and ruining the simple shape that had been slowly emerging.

"You're trying too hard," Clark coached. "Just relax and let it come."

AJ glared. "I * **AM** * relaxed."

Clark set his down his own carving, a delicately turned wooden hawk in flight, and settled on the couch beside AJ. He took the wood block and carving tool from AJ's unresisting hands and placed them on the coffee table. "AJ," he soothed, "you can just sit out here and keep me company, you know." It was a discussion they'd been having a lot the last two weeks as AJ struggled to find some way to "help out" around the farm.

AJ toyed with the fabric of Clark's couch. "It just doesn't seem right," he confided. "You're all doing so much for me and," he finally looked up and met Clark's eyes, "I have no way to repay you."

Clark sighed, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on AJ's slender shoulder. "You don't have to pay us back for *anything*, AJ." Clark smiled reassuringly. "It's not about payback, it's about friendship and doing what's right." He gently squeezed AJ's shoulder. "Besides, I like your company," he admitted with a grin.

The pale blush that spread over AJ's face and bare scalp made Clark think things he knew he shouldn't about the vulnerable man. AJ was very handsome when he blushed, or smiled, or caught his bottom lip between his teeth while deep in concentration. Clark couldn't remember the last time someone had affected him as quickly or completely as AJ had in the few short weeks he'd been in the Kent household. He had the feeling the attraction was mutual, but he wasn't going to push the issue. AJ was too fragile, too emotionally vulnerable for that right now. Besides, for all they knew the other man AJ kept seeing in his dreams was a current boyfriend who was even now looking for his missing lover. The thought made Clark selfishly hope that AJ never got his memories back, which in turn made him feel exceptionally guilty. He *liked* AJ and over-riding his lustful imaginings, was the overwhelming need to help AJ get his life back; even if that meant losing him to someone else.

"I like yours too," AJ murmured, his eyes peeking up from under red-gold lashes. "Your company," he added quickly, the flush deepening as his eyes strayed to Clark's lips.

"I'm glad." Clark smiled before leaning away from the temptation of finding out if that scarred lip was as soft as it looked.

AJ watched the subtle retreat, his gray eyes narrowing. He settled back on the couch, watching Clark intently, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"AJ?" Clark asked, moving closer, concern coloring his tone. "Is everything all right?"

AJ nodded, his eyes continuing to search Clark's face as if looking for something.

Clark stilled under the scrutiny his own brow quirking in question.

"Why do I feel so safe with you?" AJ asked quietly.

The question caught Clark completely unprepared. "Because you know you are?" he answered uncertainly.

AJ shook his head, sighing in frustration. "There's more to it than that, Clark. There's something about you and your family. I *know* I'm safe here, that I don't have to worry about anything. No matter what happens, you will all keep me safe." He stood and paced the length of the small apartment as he spoke. "I shouldn't be this way. I shouldn't trust you all so completely!" He ran an unsteady hand over his smooth scalp. "It shouldn't feel like I belong here!"

Clark stood and blocked AJ's next circuit around the couch. He gently grasped AJ's slender shoulders, stilling the frantic spill of words and recriminations. "AJ, you have a place here for as long as you want or need one."

AJ stilled at the touch of the warm hands. "But I don't *belong* here."

Clark gave in to the temptation he'd been fighting and cupped AJ's cheek, running his thumb over the smoothness of AJ's lips. Smiling as he confirmed that the small scar was indeed as soft as he'd thought it would be. "But you *do* belong here, AJ, if you want to."

With a broken whimper AJ leaned in and claimed Clark's lips in a desperate, frantic kiss, his fingers clutching at Clark's flannel shirt.

Clark wrapped his arms around AJ, steadying the slender man, pulling him closer to Clark's warmth. He gentled the harsh clashing of lips and teeth slowly, easing the kiss into something tender, something more like what he wanted their first kiss to be. AJ's body molded to Clark's, his slender arms wrapping around Clark and clinging tightly to Clark's muscular form. Clark didn't miss the fine tremors running through AJ's body or the almost panicked noises AJ made when Clark slowly pulled back from the kiss. Clark was pleased to note that AJ's breathing was just as unsteady as Clark's own as Clark moved them both back to the couch. AJ tried to reinitiate the kiss, pressing himself against Clark's body.

Clark was surprised to note that he was the only one who was hard.

"AJ?" Clark said softly. "You don't have to do this," he reassured.

"I…" AJ blushed as Clark held him firmly but gently, soothing the frantic movements of AJ's trembling body.

Clark pressed a chaste kiss to AJ's lips. "You have a place here, regardless. Don't do this out of some misguided sense of obligation." He rested his forehead against AJ's, willing his own erection to subside as he held AJ in his arms.

AJ's body curled around Clark's own, the tremors worsening. "I... don't leave me again," he whispered against the skin of Clark's neck. "Please."

Clark's arms tightened around AJ. "I won't," he promised, his breath ghosting over AJ's bare scalp like a prayer. "I promised. I'm not letting you go." He cradled AJ, rocking them both as the tremors slowly eased and AJ fell asleep curled in the safety of his angel's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

//He was bored, completely and totally bored. Father had told him to stay close but they were talking and talking and talking... and he was BORED! So he decided to explore. Mr. B always told him he should be aware of his surroundings, and how better to do that than to explore them, right? With a final look back at his father, he headed into the tall stands of green stalks.

He'd never known corn could be so tall. He'd have to tell cook when they got back home that he'd seen real corn, on the cob and still in its leaves and everything. He reached out and tentatively stroked the soft tassel of plant material at the top of one ripe 'corn pod'. He'd have to ask cook what they were actually called, she'd know. She knew EVERYTHING. Or maybe mamma, she was pretty smart too.

"Help me."

He startled. "Hello? Is someone there?" he called out tentatively. He looked back the way he came, wondering if he should go back and get father. Deciding that he'd better make sure it really was important before interrupting father's meeting; he headed cautiously towards the voice.

"Please help me," the voice called again.

It was a boy. He could tell that much. And he sounded like he was in pain. Quickening his steps, he moved towards the sound. "I'm coming. Keep talking so I can find you." He followed the sound, intent on finding the boy and being helpful. Mamma always told him to help others if he could. She'd be proud of him, and so would father if he could help someone who was hurt. "I'm almost there," he called back. "Keep talking."

The tall corn stalks abruptly stopped, opening into a small clearing where an odd scarecrow hung. He stepped cautiously into the clearing, trying to see where the boy might be. "Hello? Where are you?"

He almost screamed as the scarecrow shifted, the broad back flexing and bunching as the ragged figure pulled against its constricting frame.

"Here," the scarecrow called, "please help me."

He could feel his lungs tightening, the slight wheeze that signaled an oncoming attack. He fumbled in his pockets for his inhaler as breathing became harder. He shook the small plastic inhaler, losing the lid cap but not caring as he stuck the inhaler in his mouth and breathed the medicine deep into his lungs. He held his breath, letting the medicine work, as he crept cautiously around the edge of the clearing, staying out of arms reach of the possessed scarecrow. It wasn't until he was facing it, that he realized it wasn't a scarecrow at all, but an older boy, a teenager, who'd apparently been beaten and then strung up on the scarecrow's frame.

He let his breath out in a whoosh and moved towards the wooden frame trying to think if he had anything on him that he could use to help cut the ropes. "It's ok," he said, moving closer. "I'll help you." He tugged at the ropes, trying to loosen them and failing. Looking back the way he came he weighed the punishment for wandering off against the reward for helping someone. He had to, mamma and Mr. B wouldn't forgive him if he chose the selfish way out. "I'll go get my father, he can help."

The scarecrow smiled at him, he had a nice smile and kind eyes.

He smiled back, touching the other boy's leg. "I'll be right back, they aren't far," he reassured.

"Thank you," the scarecrow said softly, the eyes closing and the long body relaxing.

He stepped back and started back the way he came, only then noticing how dark it had become. It couldn't be night already. He hadn't been exploring that long. He moved into the corn again, carefully following back the way he'd come. He moved as quickly as he could in the deepening twilight, the shadows making it harder and harder to find exactly where he'd come through. But he was a big boy. He could do this. Besides, the scarecrow was depending on him. His father would understand when he saw the other boy. His father would finally be proud of him. He quickened his step, moving confidently forward.

Then the sky fell.

Flames erupted all around him, the corn burning, the soft tassels curling and flaring like miniature torches. Burning rocks pocked the field all around him and he ran, screaming for his father. An explosion blew him backwards, charring the corn around him but clearing a smoldering path between him and the farm where his father was meeting with the other men. He ran, calling frantically for his father. His eyes burned with tears as he saw the scattered remains of his father's helicopter.

"FATHER!" He ran towards the nearest figure he could see sprawled on the ground. "FATHER!" He nearly threw up as the smell of burning meat reached him. The man's face was burned almost completely away, leaving a bloody skull staring up at him with sightless eyes. "DADDY!" he screamed, his breath tightening in his chest as he backed away from the corpse. His eyes frantically scanned the clearing, looking for his father's distinctive mane of brown hair, the flash of his expensive suit. All he saw was fire and death.

He ran back the way he'd come. The scarecrow. He had to help the scarecrow. He could do that. He could be a big boy. He ignored his own tear-blurred vision and the heat of the rocks and flames around him, focusing on helping someone. He reached the clearing at a dead run, his lungs burning as hotly as the field. "Scarecrow," he called out, wishing he'd thought to ask the older boy his name. The boy's head lifted and scared but kind eyes found his own. "I'm going to help you," he promised not sure how, but knowing he would.

He tugged frantically on the ropes as small, burning rocks pelted them from the sky. Finally, the first rope gave way, freeing the scarecrow's feet. He climbed up and tugged at the higher ropes struggling to reach them. The scarecrow screamed as heat washed over them both and tumbled them to the ground.

Pain. Heat. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe. A heavy weight pinned him to the hard ground. It took him a moment to realize it was the scarecrow. "We have to move. Please. We have to move." It only took him a moment to realize the kind eyes that had looked to him for help, now gazed back at him lifelessly.

He screamed and screamed and screamed.//

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on, AJ. Breathe."

Gentle fingers ran across the skin behind his ear, a soft counterpoint to the almost frantic words. He struggled to comply, to ease the panic in the familiar voice, but his chest was tight, breathing impossible. He opened his mouth but the gasping, wheezing breaths produced more sound than actual oxygen. He struggled against the restraining arms, reaching for an inhaler that wasn't there.

"AJ. Relax. It's all right," Clark urged. "Breathe. Please."

His vision began to blur around the edges he clawed desperately at Clark's arm as his chest grew tighter and tighter, the lingering memory of burnt flesh and terror adding to the attack. He could feel consciousness fading, his arms becoming harder and harder to control, his thoughts scattering.

Warm lips pressed against his own, forcing air past his lips. He struggled against it, his lungs struggling to accept what was being offered. One breath, two. In and out. A steady, familiar rhythm reinforced by a strong arm around his back that tightened and relaxed with each puff of air. The wheezing lessened and the lips left his own.

"It's all right. Breathe with me, AJ," Clark directed, his arm continuing the subtle encouragement.

Gentle gusts of air brushed AJ's lips and he found himself matching the slow, even rhythm, each breath a touch deeper, a touch more relaxed then the last. His lungs opened, the tightness lessening as their breathing synched. He relaxed against Clark, resting his forehead against Clark's as his body shook off the last of the adrenaline from both the nightmare and the resulting faux-asthma attack. "Thank you," he whispered.

Clark caressed the familiar and vulnerable skin along AJ's throat. "What I'm here for." He shifted, settling them more comfortably against the couch where AJ had drifted off to sleep only an hour before. "Want to talk about it?"

AJ laughed mirthlessly. "Don't remember much, to be honest," he confided. "And what I *do* remember is some bizarre cross between Chicken Little, The Wizard of Oz and a bad horror flick."

Clark quirked an eyebrow. "Now that I have to hear," he teased gently.

AJ shook his head. "Doesn't make a whole lot of sense, it's just flashes at this point." Clark gave AJ his best supportive look. "It's not going to make much sense, so consider yourself warned."

"Ok."

"I was exploring a corn field when the sky started falling." He shivered at the remembered terror that lingered. "This shower of fire and rocks just kept falling and falling. And I ran and ran but I couldn't get away from them." He closed his eyes, trying to grasp the shattered images that had been so vivid when he'd slept. "There was an explosion and..." a burned away face filled his mind and he gasped, feeling his chest tightening.

"Relax," Clark cautioned, his hand rubbing along AJ's tense back. "You're safe here."

AJ nodded leaning into the offered comfort as he struggled to make sense of the jumble of fading images and impressions. "I... I think my father died in that explosion." He turned bleak eyes to Clark. "But I don't know." He chuckled at the next image. "I also remember a scarecrow calling me, begging for help and then it jumping down from its frame to protect me from a falling piece of sky." He pulled away from Clark, resting his elbows on his knees and running shaky hands over his scalp. "I'm crazy, right? Talking scarecrows, the sky falling... It *has* to a crazy dream, but it felt so damn real! But it can't be true," he turned pleading eyes towards Clark. "Can it?"

Clark found he couldn't meet AJ's eyes and he wondered just how many more lives his arrival had destroyed. "You're not crazy," he whispered.

"How can you be so sure?"

"I think you're describing a memory." Clark turned; taking AJ's hands in his own he began the halting story. "Twenty years ago Smallville was nearly leveled by a meteor shower...."

~~~~~~~

"Told you he was one of ours," Kyle gloated as he and Clark shared a coffee at the local cafe.

"Kyle," Clark warned.

The blond held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry. But it just made sense. He's about the right age, has some pretty awesome Gifts." He took a sip of his coffee, looking up under his pale lashes at his best friend. "He was rescued by you."

Clark glared at Kyle but refused to rise to the bait.

"Come on, CK. You *know* every 'stray' you've ever taken in turned out to be Gifted." Kyle smiled at his still glaring friend. "It's not a bad thing, but I'm betting Chloe would add it to your ever-growing list of abilities. Once is a coincidence. Twice happenstance... and fifteen times is a sure sign of Smallville Giftedness. Wall of Odd, my man, Wall Of Odd."

"He thinks the meteor shower killed his father," Clark confided.

Kyle sighed. "Not your fault. You didn't control the meteors," Kyle studied his friend for a long moment hoping Clark was too distracted to notice his slip, "unless of course," he distracted with a conspiratorial air, "there's *another* power you've not told us about... the ability to control falling space rocks." He grinned at the bemused chuckle his teasing elicited. "Besides, you would have been a small fry when the showers hit. You were as much a victim of happenstance as the *rest* of us Smallville Specials."

"I..."

Kyle reached out and took his friend's hand, forestalling another painful and unnecessary evasion. "It wasn't your fault, Clark. Anymore than it was mine or Marty's or Selene's or even AJ's. Things happen for a reason and I, for one, wouldn't change my life for anything." Kyle waited for Clark to nod before removing his hand. The ease didn't quite meet the hazel eyes, but some of the self-recrimination had eased from the handsome face. "So. How are you doing on the carvings for the Festival? You *know* that Marty's daughter is looking forward to a new bedroom set for her doll house."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Martha turned at the sound of the screen door opening and smiled as AJ entered, his cheeks flushed from the cold. She was still amazed that in the three short weeks the young man had been with them, he was completely healed. Well, completely healed except for his still missing memories. But he was slowly settling in and Kyle was certain that even those would come back as well, given enough time. He'd continued to remember bits and pieces and each piece gave Jonathan and the others another place to look to find out who he was. But so far, they'd turned up nothing.

"God. I'm fucking **USELESS**!"

"Avery Jacob! Language," she scolded.

The young man slumped into a kitchen chair, pulling off his stocking cap and laying it carefully on the table. "Sorry. And that's still not it," he added with a rueful smile.

Martha grinned at him, bringing him a cup of hot cider from the stove. "Well, we'll just keep trying," she assured.

They'd begun the "name game" after AJ had healed enough to join them downstairs on a regular basis. He'd overtaxed himself one afternoon while Clark and Jonathan were gone. Martha had come in to find him leaning heavily against the counter, his face pale and damp with the strain to his still healing muscles. She'd snapped out "Andrew Jeffrey", the name of a distant cousin who'd also gone by AJ, before she'd thought twice about it. AJ's blue-gray eyes had looked up at her in confusion as she'd scolded him while helping him to a chair. When she realized what she'd done, she'd tried to apologize but AJ stopped her saying simply that while it felt more natural than AJ, it still wasn't "right". They'd been trying different combinations ever since but still hadn't stumbled across the right one.

She smiled down at her newest adoptee. "So, why are you useless, honey?" she asked gently as she gathered the dry ingredients for the fruit bread she was currently fixing and brought them to the table so she could continue to work while talking.

"I've been trying to help Clark with the things for the Winter Faire since Jon has been so busy at the station."

Martha nodded, her hands going easily through the familiar motions of measuring and mixing as she listened.

"Well, we've established that I'm hopeless at carving, so Clark thought maybe I could help with the assembly of some of the doll furniture." He sighed, shaking his head. "He's going to have to redo three of the five I did because they look horrible."

Martha stifled her smile at the frustration in the young man's voice. "You weren't perfect after five whole pieces? AJ, I'm shocked," she teased.

AJ glared at her and then grinned, laughing at himself. "Well, when you put it like that." He sighed. "But I just feel guilty that I can't do more to help. You've all done so much for me and I *know* that Jon's been at the station so much because he's trying to find out who I am." Martha tried to deny it but was silenced by a simple raised eyebrow. "I'm not blind, Martha. I know he's being cautious because of how they found me and because of my reaction to him in his uniform. I'm not sure exactly what he's doing, but I know it's taking a lot longer than normal to sort through things because of it. And I really do appreciate it," he added softly. "You've all been so careful to keep me safe." He looked up and met Martha's concerned gaze. "That's why I want to give something back. But there's nothing I can do."

Martha thought a moment then pushed the bowl she was using towards him. "You can help me," she said confidently. "I need that thoroughly combined so when I add the wet ingredients they mix easily."

AJ blinked at the bowl and its contents. "Just, mix them?"

"Um hum," Martha nodded, standing up and assembling the rest of the ingredients she'd need.

"I… I can do that," AJ said hesitantly.

"I know you can, dear. I have complete faith."

AJ grinned and took the wooden spoon Martha had laid beside the bowl and began to carefully and methodically spoon the flour up from the bottom of the bowl and over the other spices and dry powders.

~~~~~~~~~

"Umm… Something smells wonderful in here," Jonathan praised as he walked in the back door.

"Come taste," Martha urged, holding out a slice of warm, dark sweetbread.

Jonathan took to offered bread, sniffing it appreciatively before taking a large bite. Flavor exploded across his tongue and he hummed out his pleasure.

Martha smiled at him, her arm going around AJ's waist. "So?"

"Mrs. Kent you have outdone yourself," he praised. "This is wonderful."

Martha hugged the blushing young man beside her. "I *told* you it was good."

Jonathan looked between the two, quickly putting the evidence together. "AJ? *You* made this?"

"Yes, sir," he confirmed hesitantly.

"And you managed to keep it from Clark?" he teased as he heard the screen door open.

"Kept what from Clark? And what is that wonderful smell?" Clark bee-lined for the loaf of bread still sitting on the cooling rack reaching for the sweetbread only to draw back with a yelp as a wooden spoon connected with the back of his hand. "HEY!"

"After dinner, Clark," Martha scolded while AJ snickered. "Go wash up, you're covered with sawdust. AJ," she turned to her newest kitchen assistant, "you too, you're covered with flour and spices." She shooed them out of the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."

She watched as the boys left the kitchen, AJ talking animatedly with Clark about the afternoon.

"Martha Kent," Jonathan warned, "are you up to what I'm afraid you're up to?"

Martha shrugged and busied herself with finishing the final preparations for dinner.

Jonathan moved into her path and caught her busy hands, stilling them. "Martha. Do you really think match-making is a good idea?"

She blushed prettily and leaned in to steal a chaste kiss. "We spent the entire afternoon talking, Jonathan. Those boys need each other."

"We don't even know who he is. He may be married with a family waiting for him for all any of us know."

Martha shook her head. "No. He's as alone as Clark is in so many ways. And he cares for Clark, and you and I both know Clark cares for him. You can see it in the way he acts around AJ." She looked up at her husband. "Is there really any harm in encouraging them to spend time together? They're big boys, Jonathan. And Clark was raised to be a gentleman."

Jonathan looked at Martha, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. "I guess there's no harm in it, at least, not for now." He kissed her softly. "But you realize we'll have two boys to comfort if this doesn't work out."

Martha smiled knowingly at him. "It'll work out, Jonathan. I just know it will."

~~~~~~~

"You realize mom's never going to let you out of the kitchen, now," Clark teased as he opened to door to his apartment and ushered AJ inside.

AJ grinned. "There are worse places to be." He placed the plate of sweetbread and cookies on the table. "Besides, I like spending time with your mother."

Clark answered AJ's grin with one of his own. "You realize she's playing matchmaker, right?"

AJ shrugged, blushing as he reached out and snagged one of Martha's chocolate chip cookies.

"If it bothers you, I'll tell her to stop," Clark said gently. "She can be pretty persistent when she wants to be."

"Does it bother you?" AJ asked, eyes intently studying the untouched cookie he held.

Clark breathed a sigh of relief at the question, moving to sit on the couch next to AJ. He shifted so that his thigh pressed against AJ's but made no other move to touch the hesitant man. "No," he answered sincerely. "In fact, I'm kinda glad because I wasn't sure how to even start."

Blue-gray eyes darted up, stealing a glance at Clark's face before skittering away. "Are you sure you even want to? You don't know anything about me... Hell, *I* don't know anything about me."

Clark reached out and caught AJ's chin, lifting the handsome face until he could look into guarded blue-gray eyes. "I know enough to know that you're a good man and that I find you very attractive. And, hopefully, you at least don't find me completely repugnant," he teased.

AJ smiled. "Not completely," he teased back.

Clark smiled. "I'd really like to kiss you now." He watched, mesmerized as the tip of AJ's tongue darted out to moisten the full lower lip.

"Please," AJ breathed.

Clark had now choice but to comply.

As kisses went, it perhaps wasn't the hottest, or the most passionate. But it was tender and honest and full of promise, and AJ gave himself over to it willingly. Large hands cradled his skull and one of Clark's thumbs traced the skin behind his ear eliciting a soft moan. AJ's lips opened, his tongue darting out to trace Clark's lips earning him a moan in return as Clark's lips parted and deepened the kiss. He clutched at Clark's shirt, leaning into his heat, trying to get closer. He whimpered as Clark pulled reluctantly away from the deepening kiss, easing back with several soft, quick kisses to AJ's eager lips.

Clark shifted them easily until AJ was resting comfortably against Clark's chest with Clark's arms around him, holding him close. He tried to turn, to face Clark, but was held fast. Clark's lips ghosted over the same skin his thumb had been caressing moments before. AJ tilted his head to allow Clark easier access.

"God, AJ," Clark breathed over the now damp skin. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?"

AJ chuckled, shifting back to press against the prominent bulge straining against the denim of Clark's jeans. "Oh, I think I have some idea."

Clark groaned and caught AJ's hips, stilling them. His breathing was ragged as he rested his forehead against the back of AJ's head, a soft mantra of, "I'm a gentleman, I'm a gentleman, I'm a gentleman." tickled over AJ's ear causing AJ to chuckle.

"Yes, you are," he reassured, his arms closing over Clark's where they rested around AJ's waist. "But maybe I don't *want* you to be a gentleman." AJ was rewarded with a soft thump of Clark's forehead against the bony knob at the base of his skull. "Clark. We're both adults and unless I'm completely off the mark, you want this almost as much as I do."

Clark groaned. "AJ, there's so much you don't know about me."

AJ laughed. "There's so much I don't know about *me,* Clark, so I'm not sure what your point is." He shifted his hips in Clark's grip, smiling when the fingers tightened minutely. "Although I might have a hint."

"Who are you and what have you done with my sweet, shy AJ?" Clark teased breathlessly.

"He finally decided that life was too short to pass up something he really wants just because his past is still a blur," AJ answered honestly. "I'm happier than I ever remember being, Clark." He shifted, turning so he could face the dark haired man, pleased when he was allowed to do so. "Granted, for me that's only a few months," he said with a familiar, shy smile. "But that doesn't make it any less real. I feel safe here, Clark. Safe and cared for and," he looked down at their entwined fingers, "loved. Not just by you, but by your folks and your friends." He took a deep breath then reached out and pulled an unresisting Clark close and kissed him. "I don't want to lose that," he whispered against Clark's full lips.

Clark pulled AJ into his lap, curling the other man into him. "You won't." He lifted AJ's chin, looking into the blue-gray eyes. "Even if you don't do anything with me."

AJ's smile was slow and sensual as he leaned in and stole an equally slow and sensual kiss. "And if I *do* do 'anything' with you?"

"It will be because you *want* to," Clark assured, "not because you feel you *have* to."

AJ captured Clark's hand and drew it down to rest on the matching bulge in AJ's own jeans. "Trust me, Clark. I *want* to." Both men moaned as Clark's hand stroked AJ's erection through the fabric. AJ's hips pressed forward into the touch. "Please, Clark. Please."

Clark captured AJ's lips as he continued to palm the heated length, loving the way the lithe body shivered in his arms. With deft movements he undid the fly of the jeans and slid his hand in to cup velvet-soft skin. AJ keened, wrapping himself tighter around Clark, his face buried in Clark's neck. Clark continued stroking, loving the feel of AJ's erection against his palm. A hot tongue lapped at the sensitive skin just behind his ear and it was Clark's turn to keen. It was like the nerves were directly wired to his cock, which throbbed against the confines of his own jeans until he whimpered with need. Then AJ nipped and began to suck and worry the skin with his teeth. "Oh GOD, AJ!"

In a speed-enhanced move they were on the bed and naked before AJ even realized Clark had spoken his name. He was draped over Clark's body, the younger man's cock thick and heavy against his own. Clark's hands cupped his ass and ground their groins together in short, frantic thrusts. AJ burrowed his feet under Clark's legs, anchoring them together and wrapped his arms around Clark's neck, leaning in close to whisper into Clark's ear. "I take it you like that?" he teased, his voice dark with arousal. "Love how you feel," he praised, his own hips matching Clark thrust for thrust. "And I want you to feel this good too." He leaned down and found the hotspot again, teasing it mercilessly as Clark panted and begged beneath him. "God yes," he breathed, his own body tightening as Clark's hands directed their movements, the hard, fast rhythm never faltering.

He tried to hold it off as long as he could, fighting release until his body screamed with need. The unexpected brush of a finger over the hyper-sensitized nerves of his anus broke his control. His muscles seized as he arched hard against Clark's muscled body. Strong hands held him tight, the finger pressing against but never breaching his quaking body as he came in hard, erratic thrusts, crying out Clark's name.

His cry was echoed seconds later with a splash of hot fluid and his name on his Angel's lips. The world grayed a bit around the edges as he collapsed against Clark's broad chest. As large hands caressed him from neck to ass and back again AJ could swear they were floating but he was too relaxed to look, let alone care. His angel was a solid warmth beneath him, his body was a boneless, sated sprawl, and all was right with his world for the first time in far too long.

Fingers ghosted over the skin behind his ear in an absentminded caress and he kissed the same spot on his lover, and was rewarded with a full body shudder than nearly unseated him from his comfortable perch. "So," he teased, voice still breathless and a touch rough, "I take it that's a good spot?"

His living body pillow shook with brief laugher and AJ did his best to *not* squeak as he found himself flipped around so that Clark's weight settled over him, anchoring him to the mattress as if he'd float away if not held down. He wrapped his arms around the broad shoulders and drew Clark down for a sweet, tender kiss. He reluctantly let Clark pull back only so he could look into the dazed hazel eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome," Clark answered, eyes dazed and body still pressed against AJ's. With obvious reluctance he shifted, speeding away for the briefest of moments only to return with a warm, damp cloth, which he used to tenderly clean AJ's body. Task completed he slid back into bed cradling AJ's body with his own. AJ couldn't remember ever feeling so cherished. And with the steady, reassuring thrum of Clark's heart sounding in his ear, AJ drifted off to sleep, content and safe in the arms of his angelic lover.

~~~~~

AJ wasn't sure how long they'd slept, but the loft was completely dark when he opened his eyes. Clark was a warm weight against his back and the strong arm around his waist was more comforting than confining. He stretched languidly and the arm around him tugged him closer. Soft lips pressed against his scalp.

"Mornin'," Clark mumbled against his skin.

AJ shifted, turning to face Clark and stealing a quick, sleepy kiss. "I don't think it is yet," AJ countered, looking vainly around for a clock. "Won't your parents be worried if I don't come back in tonight?"

Clark opened one eye a slit and grinned at AJ. His head tilted slightly and AJ watched as his hazel eyes went slightly unfocused for the briefest of instants. The grin widened and the eye closed completely. Clark shifted them so that AJ was settled comfortably against Clark's chest. "Nah. Mom's convincing dad he doesn't need to come out and defend anyone's honor. Besides, it's late and mom will be dragging dad to bed soon and I'm sure they'd appreciate the privacy." He urged AJ's head down, stroking the soft skin behind AJ's ear absently. "Sleep. It's fine."

AJ allowed himself to be shifted and cuddled like a large teddy bear, but something niggled at the back of his mind. Resting his chin on Clark's chest he ran his fingers through Clark's dark hair. "So, Clark?"

"um?" was the sleepy response as Clark leaned into the caress.

"Just what type of Gift do you have?"

Once more a single eye opened, this time focusing on AJ. "What do you mean?"

AJ could hear the trepidation in Clark's tone and hurried to reassure his lover. "Not that it makes a difference; we freaks need to stick together." He felt Clark tense beneath him and wondered himself where that particular label had come from.

"You're not a freak, AJ."

"No," he confirmed, "but I've been called one... a lot." Flashes of a handsome teen with a square jaw filled his mind's eye. Tall with dark hair and haunted eyes, the teen looked familiar, felt... safe. "And there's safety in numbers." He blinked, driving out the unnamed boy in favor of the warm, willing man beneath him. "Sorry," he breathed against bare skin.

Clark smiled. "It's ok." He cradled AJ's face and kissed him deeply.

AJ melted into the kiss, relaxing back into Clark's embrace. He snuggled in, wrapping his arms around Clark's waist. "So?" he pressed. "I've been trying to figure it out. Talking with Kyle about these Gifts, he's said that most of those exposed only manifest one or, at most, two Gifts, like my rapid healing or Selene's fire starting and fire manipulation. But so far I've seen you exhibit speed and strength well outside the norm. And now enhanced hearing and I think there may be something about your eyes as well. You get that same 'distant' look you just got while listening to your parents when Kyle asked you if I was doing ok. It was almost like you were looking through me." He glanced up, his eyes searching. "Xrays?" he questioned. When Clark didn't answer he continued with his speculation. "So, either you have more than the normal one or two Gifts... or, it could be that you have a dual gift that's somehow linked to your senses and your musculature." AJ's brows furrowed as he reasoned out the possibilities, hypothesis after hypothesis running rapid-fire through his head.

Clark studied the handsome face while struggling with how to answer the straightforward question. There was something about AJ that called to Clark, made him want to trust the other man with his secrets. He'd never felt that way before, not even with the friends who'd been with him since childhood. Perhaps AJ's trust went both ways. And like AJ, Clark wasn't sure why he knew his secrets would be safe with the other man, but he knew without a doubt that they would be. Taking a deep breath he silenced AJ's continued theorizing with a tender kiss. Closing his eyes, he finally told the secret he'd guarded so carefully for twenty years. "It's because I'm *not* one of the Gifted."

"Right, because a normal person can run over two miles carrying a full grown man in less that two heartbeats."

Clark couldn't fault AJ's skepticism. "No. That's not what I'm saying." He tried again, forcing himself to meet AJ's curious gaze. "I'm saying that the meteors aren't the only thing that fell from the sky twenty years ago." He was surprised by the lack of dire consequences from telling his secret. He'd always secretly expected some tragic and monumental cost once he voiced his alien-ness. Instead he was rewarded with a chuckling, naked man curling around him and pressing soft, laughter tinged kisses against his throat. "I'm serious, AJ."

Amused gray eyes looked back at him. "So you're an alien?"

Clark shrugged, smiling. "Yep."

AJ stared at him for a long moment. "You're actually serious."

Clark nodded then grinned. "Wanna see my space ship?"

AJ blinked at him before chuckling. "That better be a genuine offer rather than a cheesy come-on line." Clark raised an eyebrow and AJ could almost see him replaying what he'd said. He couldn't help smirking when Clark blushed hotly. He took pity on the other man and struggled to free himself from the warm nest of blankets. "Well," he said, searching for his clothing, "do you plan on getting dressed to do this, or is it a clothing optional showing?" He ducked the pillow that was launched at his head. Picking up his jeans he raised one ginger eyebrow as he realized that the heavy material was, quite literally, in shreds.

Clark's blush deepened as he smiled sheepishly at AJ. Moving from the bed he crossed the room unashamedly naked and opened up his dresser. He threw a heavy sweats suit at AJ and pulled on another set himself. "So, you coming or not?" he teased as AJ stood, watching him dress but making no move to dress himself. "Clothing optional is fine by me, but I think you might be a bit cold in the storm cellar."

AJ blinked and began to pull on the too large sweats. "You keep your space ship in the storm cellar?"

Clark shrugged. "Seemed more secure than the barn; besides, with the rig in there, there wasn't a whole lot of extra room." He moved to the door, opening it and looking back over his shoulder at AJ who was struggling into his shoes. "Hurry up, slow poke. The sooner I convince you I'm not insane, the sooner we can get back to cuddling."

AJ smiled, stepping in close to Clark and stealing a quick kiss. "Sounds like a good incentive to me. Lead on, Klaatu."

Clark scowled at him, eyebrow raised. "Just go."

"What," AJ asked innocently, "not a fan of the classics?"

Clark closed the door behind them and led his smirking lover down the stairs and to the door for the storm shelter at the back of the large barn. "Why is it you can remember obscure sci-fi references but you can't remember your hometown?"

AJ wrapped himself around Clark, soaking in his warmth in the evening cold. "Because the obscure sci-fi references have no bearing what-so-ever on anything important and I've apparently only forgotten important things. Next question?"

Clark chuckled and pulled AJ into the shelter of the underground room, pulling on the light with long-practiced ease. "You're insane, you realize that, don't you?" Clark teased as he pulled the tarp off of the object resting in the far corner of the shelter.

"Pretty strong accusation for someone who claims to be an ali... en," AJ trailed off as he turned and took in the small silver ship floating a foot above the packed dirt floor. "Damn."

~~~~~~~~

"So you think that the meteors might be the remains of your home planet?"

Clark shrugged, refilling his coffee and snagging another piece of AJ's chocolate sweetbread before returning to sit beside his oddly calm lover. "It seemed to make sense. Either that, or it was space junk that collected in the gravitational field around the ship." They'd spent the last hour talking about Clark's arrival on Earth, his Gifts, and his weaknesses. Clark had to admit that AJ was taking the news much better than he'd ever dared hope. Instead of the panic he'd expected, AJ had taken an almost scientific approach to the revelation. Clark wondered if that had something to do with the past that AJ couldn't remember.

"Given the amount of meteorites and the relatively small size of the ship, I don't think the gravitational field would have been big enough. Besides, the meteors are all pretty much uniform in consistency, right?" AJ mused, his attention focused inward as he ran theories through his head. "Space junk wouldn't be that homogeneous. Unless they only *appear* homogeneous. We'd have to get a representative sample to study to be sure." He focused on Clark. "Is there any way to keep them from affecting you?"

Clark smiled at the concern in AJ tone and gaze. "Lead seems to block the affect; I haven't really done any other studies. It's just easier to avoid them."

AJ nodded. "Makes sense. God, Clark. How many others know about this, about you?"

Clark looked down at his coffee. "Including you and my folks... three." He could feel AJ's incredulous stare as he took a long swallow of the too hot liquid, barely noticing the burn of it as it slid down his throat. "Mom and dad thought it would be better, safer, to keep the people who knew about it to a minimum."

"They were right." AJ reached out and ran his fingers through Clark's hair. "Do you know what kind of danger you could be in if the wrong person found out?" He shuddered at the thought. "I mean, you're proof that we're not alone in the universe. Stronger, smarter, faster than even the most skilled we have to offer, that could be frightening to some and a huge temptation to others." He leaned in and rested his forehead against Clark's shoulder. "And why me, Clark, why did you trust *me* with this secret? You don't even know who I AM." He looked up at the stoic profile. "What if I turn out to be some obsessive, manipulative, untrustworthy cretin who'd sell his own mother to the highest bidder? You have to be more *careful,* Clark. Promise me."

Clark turned and looked at AJ, a soft smile playing at his full lips. "You won't."

AJ shook his head at Clark's simple conviction. "How do you *Know* that, Clark? Is that another of your special gifts, the ability to tell the future?" He stood and began to pace the small living area. "You can't be certain of that."

"But I am certain, AJ," Clark reassured, his eyes following AJ's pacing form. "I can't tell the future, but I *can* tell the type of man you are." He rose, stepping into AJ's path and catching the slender shoulders with his hands. "And I know, with the certainty that you know you're safe here with us, that the man you are right now isn't all that far from the man you were." He cupped AJ's face, his thumb sliding over AJ's cheekbone. "Or the man you're going to be when your memories come back." He kissed AJ gently, coaxing a grudging response out of the obviously tense man. "AJ," he soothed, his fingers stroking behind AJ's ear, "trust me on this one. It's going to be all right." He tugged an unresisting AJ back to the bedroom; stripping them both and curling them back into bed. He settled AJ against his chest, his large hand soothing up and down AJ's bare back. "Relax."

"Your blind faith is going to get you captured and killed some day, Clark," AJ countered.

Clark smiled. "No, because you'll be there to guard my back." He took a deep breath and took the next chance. "And my heart," he added softly. The quiet admission hung between them in the stillness and Clark wondered if this was what freefall felt like, a tense stillness with the anticipation of a painful "splat" at the end. Then AJ turned in his arms, moving to straddle Clark's hips and sitting up so he could look in Clark's eyes. The blue-gray depths studied him for long moments but Clark refused to squirm or back down. He knew it was sappy, but it was honestly how he felt and he refused to apologize for it.

"You really mean that."

Clark couldn't help but wonder at the awe in AJ's voice. "Yeah, I really mean that." He ran hesitant fingers up AJ's thigh. "Are you ok with this?"

AJ smirked, blushing. "With your hand on my thigh, the fact that you're an alien, or the fact that you just pretty much admitted that you love me?"

Clark returned both the smile and the blush. "All of the above?"

AJ thought about it a moment before laying his hand over Clark's. "The hand, definitely ok." He leaned in and stole a slow kiss before leaning back. "The alien thing, I'll admit I have a few questions," the twinkle in his eyes belied the seriousness of his tone. He looked over Clark's body for a long moment. "There aren't any extra tentacles or limbs or... teeth that I need to worry about are there?"

Clark chuckled. "No. No extra anything. I look remarkably human."

AJ nodded. "Good. There aren't going to be any dark haired, hazel eyed, needle teethed spawn chewing their way out of my chest in the middle of the night? No chance that your seminal fluid will act like acid when it interacts with *my* bodily fluids turning my insides to mush or blowing off the top of my head as it's fired out at superhuman strength? No chance I'll end up pregnant in some freaky alien mating ceremony? That kind of thing."

It took everything Clark had not to laugh out loud. But he carefully schooled his features, matching AJ faux serious look for faux serious look. "Nope, well, not that I've experienced so far." He traced delicate patterns on AJ's hand where it held his own. "If you'd like reference you could talk to Kyle."

AJ's eyebrows raised in shock.

"NO! Not like that," Clark hastened to reassure him. "Kyle, Pete and Chloe were my best friends growing up. Between the three of them they know just about everything about the dating wasteland that has been my attempt at a love life. I suggest Kyle because the other two you haven't met yet."

"Ah..."

"Seriously," Clark reassured, the threatening smile slowly curving his full lips. "And the other?" he prompted.

AJ shrugged. "Well, you are the same geeky trucker I slept with not three hours ago, so I'm not seeing a problem. Though I admit I can't help thinking you're nuts for admitting you love me after only knowing me for a few weeks. But," he continued, his eyes locking with Clarks, "considering I'm in pretty much the same boat, I guess I can't say too much."

"There is that," Clark whispered, cupping AJ's cheek tenderly.

"But then, I can blame mine on head trauma," AJ teased.

"I remember," Clark said, brushing his hand over AJ's scalp gently. "Hell of a way to start a relationship, AJ," Clark scolded. "But I can't say I regret it."

"Neither can I," AJ assured before closing the distance between them. They kissed languidly, AJ shifting to rest completely against Clark's solid form. Clark's arms held him close, anchoring him in the swirl of emotions and sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. He felt weightless and reveled in it. He shifted...

and fell to the bed with a thump, from about a foot above the bed. He looked up at Clark in amazement. "You realize you're floating, right?"

Clark shifted. "I am?" As he turned to look he fell to the bed with a thump. "Wow. That's never happened before."

AJ curled back around Clark, delighting in his lover's warmth. "So I'm special?"

Clark wrapped his arms around AJ, holding him close. "Always."

~~~~~~~~

Chloe Sullivan looked around the chaos that would soon be the Smallville Winter Festival. The large barns were marked with yellow and white tape boundaries and several booths were in the early stages of assembly already. Large heaters served to take the chill off the Kansas December but still left people rosy cheeked and red nosed. This had always been Chloe's favorite time in Smallville and she couldn't wait to share it with her boyfriend. She turned and smiled at the redhead trailing behind her, wrapped securely in his coat, several scarves and a Daily Planet stocking cap.

"So," came a deep voice behind her, "Ms. Big City Star Reporter finally deigned to grace us with her presence, did she?"

She turned with an ear-shattering squeal and launched herself at the tall, muscular form of her best friend. "CLARK! Gods I've missed you."

Clark caught the blonde whirlwind easily but made a show of staggering under her slight weight.

"Brat!" she growled, smacking his chest with her open palm. "You know. Maybe I didn't miss you as much as I thought I did."

Clark grinned unrepentantly and planted a chaste kiss on her pouting lips. "Now come on. You *know* you love me."

She pretended to think on it, studying her friend from the familiar perch in his arms. Smiling broadly she giggled her capitulation. "Yeah, well. I always was a sucker for lost causes." She hugged him and kissed his cheek as he returned her feet effortlessly to the ground. "I'm so glad you're here."

Clark beamed.

"So, where is your folks' booth going to be set up this year?" she asked eagerly, "I promised Jimmy some of your mom's homemade cookies if he braved the cold and came with me."

Clark mock-scowled at her. "I swear. My friends *Only* like me because of my mom's cooking."

"Well, yeah," Chloe teased.

"Now who's the brat?" he bantered back. He turned and looked at the bemused young man standing behind Chloe. He held out his hand. "Hi. In case you haven't gathered, I'm Clark. You must be Jimmy?"

Heavily mitten-ed hands shook his own. "Yeah, I'm Jimmy. Chloe's told me a lot about you."

"Only believe about half," he said with a smile. "And most of the truly embarrassing stories I can guarantee you she played SOME part in, regardless of what she says.

"CLARK!" came the undignified retort.

"What?" he said innocently, winking at the smiling young man. "You think I don't know that you tend to edit out *your* part in the great Frog Release debacle back in junior high?"

She blushed but held her ground. "They were being mistreated and DESERVED to go free," she said solemnly. "So," she said, taking Clark's arm and leading them further into the barn. "Have you seen anyone else from the old crew home for the holidays?"

"Nice change of topic there, Ms. Subtle," Clark teased, earning him a snicker from Jimmy and a smack on the arm from Chloe. "Let's see. Lana's back from Paris with Jason. Pete's home visiting his folks and he and Julie Michaels from the class behind ours have been pretty much inseparable since he got back. Kyle's spent the last three days denying that his former college roommate Jack is anything *more* than a friend, even though he's sporting a hickey that even Dad noticed."

Chloe laughed. "God, what *is* it with our group and 'J' names?"

Clark stalled, thinking back on the list he'd just relayed. He stopped in his tracks and looked at his diminutive diva of the oddball, but generally accurate, connections. "Another Wall of Odd moment?" he asked, "Or simply a coincidence? Because those CAN happen, even in Smallville." She just raised a shapely eyebrow at him.

"Clark? Your mom's looking for you. Something about the wooden display rack not setting up correctly again?"

Clark smiled at the cultured and hesitant voice. "Case in point, Ms. Sullivan; an exception to the potential pattern." He ushered his confused lover forward, wrapping a comforting arm around the stiff shoulders. "Chloe Sullivan, meet A... J." He sighed at the knowing smirk on the blonde's face. "Damn. Wall of Odd moment," he conceded.

"Do I want to know?" AJ asked hesitantly.

"Nah, not really," Chloe said with a giggle. "Class project many, many misspent moons ago." She held out her hand. "Chloe Sullivan and the walking bundle of clothing there is Jimmy Olson. It's a pleasure to meet you, AJ."

AJ smiled, taking the offered hand while leaning slightly into Clark's welcome warmth. "Good to meet you." He looked up at Clark. "Your mother really did send me, Clark. She's been fighting with that rack for a while now."

"I really need to figure out why that thing hates her so much," he said with a sigh. "It works perfectly well for Dad and me." He smiled at Chloe. "Come on. If mom finds out you were here and I didn't bring you over, I'll never hear the end of it." He looked over at the shivering Jimmy. "I know for a fact that she's got *at least* a dozen of her Chocolate Lover's Dream cookies in the truck *and* two full thermoses of her home-mix hot cocoa." He clapped the redhead on the shoulder. "Just shiver in her general direction and I promise you she'll spoil you rotten."

"Deal," Jimmy said with a grin as the four fell easily into step, moving toward the back of the largest of the barns where the Kent's stall was slowly taking shape.

AJ smiled as he let the sound of the two friend's reminiscing wash over him. As they walked two long fingers stole up his neck and burrowed under his borrowed stocking cap, stroking absently at the responsive patch of skin behind his ear. He wondered when that spot had become hardwired directly to the dopamine production centers in his body. Deciding to stop analyzing the sense of safety and pleasure he felt curled so close to Clark, AJ sighed in contentment and melted further into Clark's embrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The afternoon passed quickly. The "possessed display rack" was finally conquered by Clark and a few judiciously placed screws. Pete and Julie joined the party soon after, having come to see if Chloe had "actually talked her wimpy California raised Boy-toy into braving a *mild* Kansas December." A comment that got Pete glared at by Chloe and squeaked at by a laryngitis stricken Julie. Raised eyebrows from both Martha *and* AJ had Clark pleading the fifth and refusing to agree or disagree with the backpedaling Pete.

Setting up the remainder of the Kent's booth and then assisting with the Michaels' booth took the rest of the afternoon. Chloe stood and watched Clark's boyfriend as the group amicably argued over where to go for supper. She liked the shy young man, and if the cow-eyes that Clark watched him with were any indication, Clark liked him too. She was glad for Clark; he deserved someone special in his life. They all did. Turning to smile at her own "someone special" she caught movement at the edge of one of the truck beds. She surreptitiously watched the shadowy form for a moment before subtly shifting herself and Jimmy out of the line of fire. The figured stalled at the move, freezing in place, until Chloe winked at him.

Kyle smiled his thanks and let fly with the snowball, hitting Pete dead center of his chest.

The African-American man looked from his slow splattered coat to the now cackling Kyle. "You did not just," he said menacingly.

Kyle shrugged and bent to scoop up another large handful of snow.

"Oh *hell* no, Band-Aid Boy," he growled, grinning manically. "It is **ON** now!" he yelled, scooping up a matching handful of snow and taking off after the blond healer. "You are *so* going down!"

The ensuing free for all snowball war ended with everyone, including many of the "adults", coated in a fine powder of melting snow. Chloe collapsed against Jimmy, giggling as she wiped snow-damp bangs out of her eyes. Jimmy's lips were cold against her neck and she turned to press her lips against his.

"Oh, MAN! CK, Buddy, get a ROOM!"

Chloe reluctantly turned from her own boyfriend to see what Clark was doing with *his* boyfriend to provoke such a teasing reaction from the normally unflappable Pete. Her own jibe died in her throat as she took in the scene. AJ's woolen hat was absent for the first time since Chloe had met him and Clark's large hands cradled AJ's bald head as the two men kissed passionately. She suddenly realized why she'd thought AJ had looked familiar.

"Jimmy," she breathed softly, not wanting to disrupt the tender moment if she was mistaken. "Does AJ look familiar to you?"

The young photographer studied the pair intently. His breath caught as the kiss broke and they were treated to a full on view of AJ's relaxed and content expression. "Damn." Jimmy rested his chin on her shoulder, talking quietly into her ear as they watched the two teasing Pete. "Didn't Clark say something about AJ not remembering his past? It would explain a lot."

Chloe nodded. "So it's not just me then?"

Jimmy shook his head, his arms tightening around Chloe's waist, pulling her close. "AJ is the missing Luthor heir."

~~~~~~~

"Clark," Chloe said, exasperated with her best friend, "I'm not asking you to turn him over to some secret government project or to help lock him up in some disreputable mental institution. I'm just asking you to contact the Luthor estate and *talk* to them."

"NO!"

She nearly growled in frustration. She'd never seen Clark so unreasonably stubborn before. She, like most of those raised around Smallville's Gifted, knew the inherent dangers that outsiders could bring. But she also knew how sincere Mr. Luthor had been about finding his missing son. She'd seen the interviews, read the fact sheets handed out to all reporters and law enforcement personnel. Jimmy had even been one of the ones who helped design some of the initial layouts for the pieces distributed for the public. He'd talked about the sincerity of the youngest Luthor for *days* afterwards. If, as they suspected, AJ *was* the missing Lex, they owed it to everyone, including AJ to make that call.

"No, Chloe," Clark snapped, moving to stand in front of her. "I can hear you *thinking*." He leaned down, locking eyes with her. "You will *NOT* call them. I won't have you endangering AJ that way. Do you understand me?"

Chloe shrank back in the overstuffed chair, trembling at the barely suppressed rage flaring in the normally gentle hazel eyes. "Clark, be reasonable."

Clark turned away from her, eyes closing as he fought back his unreasoning anger. He *would* protect AJ, even from his well intentioned friends.

"Miss Sullivan?" AJ's soft voice cut through Clark's struggles.

"Yes?" Chloe answered hesitantly, her eyes on Clark's tense back.

"Do you truly believe that I *am* this missing man?" His eyes were also locked on Clark, their stormy depths unreadable.

"Yes, AJ. I do think you're Lex Luthor." Her hand tightened on Jimmy's as she watched Clark's hands curl into fists at her words. But AJ deserved the truth as did the Luthor family. She didn't want to hurt her friend, but she couldn't just pretend that the possible connection wasn't there. She wasn't sure why Clark was reacting so badly, but she couldn't let it stop her.

"And this Lex Luthor… he," AJ paused, "*I* am a good man?"

Chloe smiled reassuringly. "Going by what your family, co-workers and staff have to say, you're a *very* good man."

He nodded, his eyes straying to Clark's back before closing as if pained by what he saw. "Good," he said softly. "That's…. good."

Martha watched the scene unfolding and fought back the urge to take her petulant son over her knee for what his silence was doing to the lost young man sitting on their couch. She hugged Jonathan then moved to sit beside AJ on the couch. "Honey," she soothed, taking his hand in her own. She wasn't surprised to find it chilled and trembling slightly. "No one is going to push you into doing something you're not ready for." She reached up and caressed his smooth scalp.

Troubled grey eyes focused on her face. "Why don't I remember? If I really am this… person that she says I am, wouldn't knowing that bring everything back? Maybe I'm not supposed to remember. Maybe what they think of me isn't really… how I am." He looked down at his hands, clutched tightly around hers. "What if I'm not who you," his eyes flickered to the still silent man standing by the wall, "who Clark," he whispered, "Think I am? I don't want to lose this," his voice was lost, broken as he voiced the fear that Martha had suspected lurked behind his actual reluctance.

"Oh, AJ." She pulled him in tight, holding him like he was her own child. "Nothing will make you lose this," she soothed. "We don't care if you're AJ, or Lex or… Harvey Finkelstein," she teased gently. She pulled back just enough to raise his chin and make him look at her. "Your name doesn't change who you are, sweetheart." She looked significantly over at her now watching son. "Not for ANY of us." She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to AJ's forehead. "And you'll *always* have a place here." She hugged him and ignored the suspicious dampness in his eyes. "Besides, I don't care what name I have to call you, you are NOT getting out of helping me bake all those pies we promised Ethel Nelsen for the charity Christmas boxes."

AJ laughed, hugging Martha tightly. "Thank you," he whispered. Still curled in Martha's arms he looked first at Clark, almost apologetically, then at Chloe. "Call the number," he finally managed to choke out. Martha hugged the trembling form as Chloe smiled reassuringly at him. Martha looked over AJ's shoulder to glare at her son. She was pleased to see a repentant blush on the handsome face. She raised one eyebrow at him, spurring Clark into action. She was pleased when Clark crossed the room in two quick strides and knelt beside them at the couch. She breathed a soft sigh of relief as AJ's body relaxed when Clark's arms closed around him and pulled him, unresisting, into Clark's embrace.

~~~~~~~

"Clark!" Martha chastised sharply. "If all you're going to do is glare daggers at every stranger that comes up to the booth then you need to go find somewhere else to be." She rearranged the display for the fifth time in as many minutes, a clear sign of her frustration with her son.

"I'm sorry, mom," Clark apologized. "It's just..."

"You're worried about AJ," she finished with a long-suffering smile. "I *know* you're worried, sweetie. But Chloe's right. We probably won't hear anything for a while yet. The call was made late in the evening on a Friday night. So they wouldn't have gotten to it until Monday at the earliest. And that's depending on how many *other* calls they've gotten that they have to check." She brushed her son's dark hair back from his face. "And THEN they double check with the police in the area that the call came from before they do *anything*. Which means," she said with a mother's patience, "that your father or Dan will get the call first." She kissed Clark's furrowed brow. "And you know they want to keep AJ as safe as we do."

"I know. I just..." Clark sighed heavily. "I can't explain it, mom. I just have this *need* to protect him, to make sure he's safe."

Martha smiled. "It's called 'love', honey."

Clark chuckled ruefully. "That obvious?"

She ruffled his hair like she had when he was a child. "Only to your mother."

"And your best friends," came a teasing voice from behind them.

"You're not helping, Chloe," Clark growled turning to face the far too cheerful young woman. "And this is *all* your fault!"

"What's all her fault?" AJ answered as he set down the basket of baked goods Martha had sent him to back to the farm to retrieve.

"Nothing."

"Making your boyfriend crazy with worry about you."

AJ looked from Clark to Chloe in bemusement at the overlapping answers. He turned to Martha. "I don't want to know, do I?"

She shook her head with a mischievous grin. "What you *do* want to do, is take Clark and go wander."

"Still scaring away the customers?" AJ asked. Laughing when Martha nodded and Clark spluttered out a denial. "Come on, my personal pit bull," he teased, taking Clark's arm and pressing a chaste kiss to Clark's cheek. "Martha," AJ said with a smile, "I'll bring him back in time to help pack up this evening if that's all right."

"Please," Martha said with a matching smile. "You all go have fun," she shooed the two couples, Clark and AJ and Chloe and Jimmy, away with a wink. "I'll see you all later."

"Okay," Chloe said with a smirk, eyes sparkling as she surveyed the festival grounds. "Pete and Kyle, with their respective dates, are over by the concession booth in the second barn. Lana and Jason were going to be checking out the snow sculpture contest, and I *think* Lana managed to talk Jason into participating. SO," she said with a conspiratorial grin, "I say we go harass Pete and Kyle into joining us outside and go cheer Jason on. I can't wait to see what he comes up with." She headed off towards the second barn without a backward glance.

Jimmy, AJ and Clark exchanged amused looks and silently fell into step behind the young woman.

They caught up to Chloe easily and AJ listened in amusement as the old friends teased and bantered. He stood, tucked securely against Clark's side and couldn't help but wonder if he had this sort of "family" in his other life. He leaned his head against Clark's shoulder, smiling as his lover leaned in and stole a quick kiss causing Pete to groan about "not again." He relaxed into the embrace, trying hard to contain his laughter as Clark made a large show of deepening the kiss, turning so that their actual actions were hidden from the others and their good-natured catcalls. Clark smiled down at him, making it look like a deep, passionate kiss. AJ wrapped his hands in Clark's hair, clinging to his lover and winking up at him as his hands added to the make-believe make out session for Clark's, for their, friends.

"Okay you two," Jonathan's voice sounded over Pete's teasing, "this is a family venue. Enough tonsil checking." He made a show of urging the two apart, winking at AJ as he continued their charade. "Don't make me have to arrest my own son for public indecency, Clark."

"Ah man. Busted by your own old man, Clark," Pete teased. "Just like old times."

AJ stepped away from Clark and grinned.

**"LEX, LOOK OUT!"**

AJ turned automatically towards the strangely familiar voice, stilling as a large, dark-skinned man barreled towards him. He felt strong arms wrap around him and pull him into the safety of Clark's chest. He heard shots, a man yelling his name while a woman screamed. He was peripherally aware of Jonathan demanding "put your weapon down" and he couldn't help but wonder if the large man who'd called out was the one Jonathan was facing. He was worried for Jonathan, something about the other man made AJ wary of him. Images of the man holding a gun, a knife flashed through his head. "Clark," he whispered. "He's dangerous." He looked up into Clark's concerned hazel eyes. "He could kill your father. We have to warn him." Clark wrapped his arms tighter around AJ, urging AJ's face into the crook of his neck. There was a sudden, disorienting feeling of movement and AJ realized that Clark was running them from the scene. "Clark..."

Clark stumbled, his arms tightening around AJ as he twisted around, using his body to cushion AJ's as they fell, then rolling protectively over him when they stilled. AJ could hear sirens in the distance and wondered which of the officers they'd be talking to and hoped it was one of the locals and not an outsider. He couldn't help smiling as he realized he'd come to view those not of his new "home" as outsiders. He attempted to shift underneath Clark's protective weight, wanting to share the epiphany with his lover. Clark continued to shelter him, unwilling to move.

"Clark?" he whispered, gently shifting back against his lover. "Clark, I'm all right. You can get up now." Clark refused to move. AJ wiggled beneath his lover. "You realize that if your dad finds us like this, or worse yet, PETE, we're never going to hear the end of it." There was no response. "Clark?" He struggled against the heavy, still weight of his lover that effectively pinned him to the ground. "CLARK?" He finally managed to wiggle out from beneath Clark's too still form and began checking him for obvious injuries. There was a small hole in back of Clark's jacket and the faintest trace of blood. But it was the faint green cast to Clark's skin that made AJ worry for his lover's safety.

He could still hear the stranger arguing with Jonathan, both men's voices raised but oddly distant. AJ looked around and suddenly realized Clark had moved them beyond the barns to the edge of an evergreen shelterbelt. He knew he had to get help but he didn't want to leave Clark. He looked towards the festival grounds, seeing it bustling with people who were oddly calm considering they'd just been through a shooting. He guessed that after having the sky fall, a shooting wasn't all the frightening to them. Clark coughed, whimpering as his body shook with the sharp action. AJ held him, soothing him while urging Clark to look at him, to talk to him. The hazel eyes opened a fraction, locking on AJ's face for a brief second before closing. The next weak cough brought up foam speckled with bright red blood.

"No," AJ denied. "Clark, don't do this." He looked toward the festival grounds, recognizing Jonathan and tried to call to him, but the officer was too far away to hear him. The stranger, however, turned and locked his gaze with AJ.

"Brian." Lex whispered the dredged up name uncertainly. "BRIAN!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, calling for the one man who had always known exactly what to do in ANY situation. "Help me," he called desperately, running towards the two men.

"Lex!" the man called again, struggling in Jonathan's grip, fighting the handcuffs. "Damn it, let me GO! LEX! Answer me!" He turned on Jonathan, "DAMN IT! I'm not the shooter!" he said sharply. "I'm just here to find and bring Lex home to his family, to keep him safe. Please, let me go to him."

Lex stopped in front of them, winded, his gray eyes wild. "Brian, you have to help me. Please, he's hurt."

"It's all right, boy," the large man soothed. "We'll help him." He turned and looked at Jonathan. "I'm not the bad guy, sir. You have to believe me. I've watched over Lex since he was born and I'd never do anything to hurt him."

Lex turned his eyes on Jonathan. "Jon, please. Clark's hurt. I... I can't wake him and he's... green. And he was just protecting me."

Jonathan reached out and gripped Lex's shoulder. "It's all right, AJ. We'll take care of him. KYLE!" he yelled to the young man currently working to help those hurt by the unknown attacker. "We need you and Pete. Clark's been hurt." He quickly unlocked the handcuffs holding the stranger and turned back to Lex. "Where is he, AJ?" he asked, his eyes dark with worry.

"This way, hurry." He turned and ran back to Clark's side, trusting the others to follow. He knelt and took Clark's hand in his own. "Clark. Wake up. Please."

A heavy hand squeezed his shoulder. "It'll be all right, AJ," Jonathan soothed. "We just need to get him out of here."

Lex looked up at Jonathan. "He saved me."

Jonathan pulled Lex into a reassuring hug. "He'll be okay, AJ. I promise." He lifted the young man's tear stained face. "Trust me on this one," he urged. "He'll be all right."

"What have you got, Jonathan?" Kyle asked, bursting through the trees with Pete, Jason and the girls in tow.

Jonathan glanced around significantly and Lex tried to see what he was trying to signal the others about without words. Lex looked as well, noting with horror the minute dusting of glowing green on the ground around them. Meteor dust. "Can we move him?" Lex asked quietly.

"We'll have to," Jonathan answered.

"Why?" Brian asked in obvious confusion. "He's in no immediate danger here."

Lex looked at Brian. "But he is, Brian. Trust me. We have to move him."

"All right. Then we'll move him." The large bodyguard bent down looking at Jonathan expectantly. Jonathan knelt on Clark's other side and between the two of them they eased Clark from the chilled ground. The others moved in quickly and together, they moved Clark away from the deadly resting place and into the safety of one of the heated barns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Chloe sat beside Lex, waiting for word on Clark. "He'll be ok," she reassured.

"He was protecting me," Lex said softly.

Chloe smiled. "It's what he does, AJ. He's the town hero for a reason. That boy has saved more people."

Lex stood and paced the length of the small office. Jonathan and Brian had carried the unconscious Clark into the smallest of the barns that had been transformed into a surprisingly organized triage. Lex had been bundled off into a small office, checked over by Kyle and given a clean bill of health. Chloe had agreed to stay with him while Jimmy and Brian had been asked to accompany Sheriff Daniels to give their statements about what had happened. Brian had been reluctant to leave Lex until Jonathan had promised to stay close and keep an eye on the shaken young man.

"So, AJ," Chloe said, trying to recapture Lex's attention. "I take it you're starting to remember?"

"Some," he answered distractedly, eyes trying to see through the corrugated metal of the walls to where Clark was being treated. He startled as a small hand captured his and tugged him back towards the couch.

"Sit!" Chloe ordered and Lex found himself obeying with a grin. The blonde smiled at him as she knelt before him, taking his hands in hers and making sure she had his complete attention. "Clark is going to be fine. He's in GREAT hands who know exactly how to help him and he'll be up and around in a few days."

"How can you know that, Ms. Sullivan?" he countered. "He shouldn't have been hurt at all!"

"Because we've seen this happen before," she reassured. "Once he's away from the meteors he kicks back into full 'invincible' mode." She settled on the floor cross-legged and grinned. "Promise."

"But the hole in his jacket?"

The door opened, admitting Kyle who was smiling. "The hole in his jacket was caused when he turned to protect AJ from a sniper shot. The bullet was STILL in the jacket and Sheriff Daniels now has it. The story is it ricocheted off of one of the barn struts and lost enough momentum that it just grazed Clark. Luckily, there's enough *other* evidence that Dan doesn't think Clark will need to say anything. Which is good," Kyle added with a grimace, "considering that boy can't lie his way out of a paper bag."

"They've caught the shooter then?" Chloe asked eagerly.

"OH yeah," Kyle said with a smirk. "And you're *never* gonna believe who it was."

Chloe's eyes sparkled with interest. "Who? Tell me!"

Kyle looked around, adding to the air of mystery. "Officer James Samuels from Pratt County. They caught him trying to ditch the rifle over the River Bridge outside of town." He grinned. "And you KNOW Dan's having a field day with this."

"NO WAY!"

Lex's patience finally broke. "Is Clark Okay?" he growled.

Kyle blinked at the tone. "Yeah, once we got the meteor dust off him his natural immunity and healing kicked in. He had some mild burns on his back, probably from the heat of the bullet hitting his skin that the radiation exacerbated. But a little time in the sun and our boy's natural rhino-hide will be back to alien norm."

Lex startled at the casually uttered secret.

"KYLE!" Chloe chided, looking from an oblivious Kyle to the stunned Lex.

"What?" Kyle asked, unsure why he was getting in trouble this time. He followed Chloe's gaze and shrugged. "If Clark loves him enough to risk his life *and* risk revealing his secret in front of the whole town for him, I'm pretty sure AJ already knows." He looked over at Lex whose pole-axed expression hadn't changed. "You *do* know... right?" he asked, suddenly uncertain.

Lex nodded. "But *you* shouldn't."

Kyle chuckled. "Oh. _That_." He grinned at Chole. "Told ya! Clark doesn't *know* that we all know."

"All?"

"Smallville class of 2006," Chloe answered sheepishly. "Well, *most* of us anyway."

Lex leaned back, taking in the unexpected revelation. "How? Why?"

"There was a tornado our junior year. The Kent farm got hit pretty good," Kyle said. "We, the class, all twenty of us," he grinned at Chloe, "headed out after it was over to help with clean up. Martha had been hurt so, Clark and Jonathan were with her in Hutch and they'd all done so much for all of us, it just seemed the thing to do."

"Imagine our surprise when Pete stumbles across this... metal pod," Chloe took over the story, "out in the middle of one of the fields. After a little bit of discussion we took it back to the farm and made it look like it had been blown around, but not uncovered."

"It might not have been theirs," Lex countered.

Chloe chuckled. "Nope, we knew it had to be. It explained so much about Clark and why his folks were so protective of him when he was almost indestructible." She pointed over at Kyle. "Besides, most of them had grown up with Clark so the thought of him being an alien didn't really matter much. It's just how they were raised. Smallville's gifted kids stick together and look out for each other. Clark's gift just needed a little more protecting than others."

Lex shook his head, still not understanding how they could be so blasé about the situation.

Kyle took over. "You have to understand. We'd already nearly lost one of our own to someone who wanted to cash in on one of the Gifted. The Kent's and Sheriff Daniels had helped stop it. We weren't about to turn our back on one of our own."

Lex could see the logic. "But why not tell Clark you know?"

Chloe smiled at Kyle. "Because Clark's a dork with guilt enough to start his own religion if he wanted."

Kyle laughed. "Actually, we've seen how upset Clark gets when people talk about their mutations due to the meteors. For some unknown reason he blames himself." Kyle shrugged. "It seems easier for him to cope with his guilt if he thinks we think he's just one of us." He looked at the closed door that Clark was just beyond. "Which he *is* regardless of where he was born." He turned and looked at Lex. "And so are you, you know that right? Even with your memories back you're still one of ours and we're keeping you."

Lex blushed, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Don't thank me yet," Kyle cautioned. "You've never had to deal with a recovering Clark." He shivered melodramatically.

"Somehow, I think I'll manage," Lex answered with a tender smile. "I think I'll manage just fine."

~~~~~~~~

"Alexander."

Lex turned at the hesitant call. "Father," he answered, moving to the older man's side and embracing him. His father's arms closed around him, holding him tightly. Lex buried his face in his father's chestnut and silver hair, breathing in the scent of safety and home.

"AJ!"

Lex turned and caught his younger brother in a wild hug as he pounded up the stairs onto the Kent's porch. "Julian," he whispered into the dark hair. "I'm so glad you're ok."

His younger brother pulled back and pinned Lex with a stern look. "Don't you *ever* do something like this again! Do you hear me, AJ? NEVER AGAIN!"

Lex held up his hands in surrender. "I promise, Jules, on mom's grave, never again." He smiled as his younger sibling. "Okay?"

Julian nodded, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Okay." Julian hugged Lex again. "So," he said, keeping one arm firmly around his older brother's waist, "where's this trucker who thinks he's good enough for my big brother?"

Lex turned and pinned Julian with a glare. "He's *more* than good enough for me, Julian. He's... perfect for me and you *will* be nice to him, and his parents."

Julian's eyes widened at the quiet steel in his laidback brother's voice. "Okay. As long as he treats you right and makes you happy," he confessed, "I'll *love* him."

Lex relaxed. "He does, Jules. He makes me very happy and treats me better than I deserve."

"Now I wouldn't go that far," Clark said from the doorway. "AJ, sorry, Lex, are you going to keep them out on the porch all night, or actually invite them in?" He stepped out on the porch and extended his hand first to Lionel then to Julian. "Clark Kent, the trucker in question," he said with a grin. "Come on in. Mom's just putting super on the table. It's nice to finally meet you folks."

Lex smiled at his lover and ushered his blood family through the open doorway to meet the family of heart that he'd gained during his fateful exile.

~~~~~~

"Alexander," Lionel said with obvious pride, "your mother and Mrs. Fallon would both be greatly pleased to hear you remembered some of their lessons."

Lex looked at his father in confusion, even though most of his memory had returned, there were still gaps. He'd been assured they would come back given time.

Lionel smiled and turned to the waiting Kents. "Alexander use to spend hours in the kitchen with his mother when she was pregnant with Julian. Mrs. Fallon was our cook and she indulged Alexander far more than she should have," he said with an indulgent smile at his recently returned son. "Fortunately, she also instilled a love of cooking in him. There were many nights after Lillian passed that I'd find young Alexander in the kitchen cooking along side Mrs. Fallon."

"She's the one that taught me how to make the chocolate sweet bread," Lex said suddenly. "It was your favorite. It's the first thing I baked completely on my own."

Lionel nodded, clearly pleased that Lex had remembered.

Julian smiled up at his brother from his place on the floor. The nineteen year old had been reluctant to leave his brother's side but also refused to come between Clark and Lex as they sat together on the loveseat, so he'd settled himself on the floor at Lex's feet, his arm draped casually over his brother's knees. "We brought the photo albums," he said with a smirk. "I think there's a picture of you covered in chocolate frosting from when you decided to bake my birthday cake when I turned ten."

Lex laughed out loud at the memory, blushing delightedly. "Ok, brat, bring out your worst," he conceded.

"Dad," Julian pouted, "AJ called me a brat."

"Alexander," Lionel chided with a slight smile. "Be nice to your brother."

"Yes, sir," Lex answered with a matching smile.

Julian stuck his tongue out at his older brother.

"Even if he *is* a brat," Lionel added deadpan, earning laughter from the Kents and Lex and a disgruntled squeak from Julian.

Julian brought out an elegant photo album and began quickly flipping through the pages, searching for the correct photo. The others continued to talk as Julian searched exchanging the story of what had transpired in both homes while Lex was missing. With a sudden crow of triumph, Julian set the album on the coffee table so everyone could see it.

Martha laughed at the picture of a nineteen year old Lex, all long gangly limbs and wide startled eyes, covered in powdered sugar and cocoa. "Oh, honey," she smiled at Lex. "That explains why you were so careful mixing things."

Lex shrugged. "Well, it seemed like a good plan at the time."

Martha listened as Lex began to explain the story, but a flash of red in one of the other photos caught her eye. As she moved to get a better look all other awareness fled. "Jonathan, look," she said softly, picking up the album and bringing it closer to her husband. Jonathan's blue eyes followed where she pointed and suddenly grew wide. The two exchanged disbelieving looks. Martha turned the album, pointing out one of the pictures to Lex. "Honey, is that you?" she asked hesitantly.

Lex stared at the photo before running a hand over his bare scalp. "Unfortunately," he said. "I just couldn't get dad's chestnut hair like Jules, or even mom's auburn. No. I had to get Bozo red."

"How old were you in that picture, AJ?" Jonathan asked.

Lex shook his head, deferring to his father. Lionel studied the picture a moment before answering. "You must have been about eight. It may have been taken the summer before you got so sick. Dominick or Brian might know. I wasn't around as much then," Lionel said regretfully.

"You were around when it counted most, Dad," Lex reassured his father. "I don't think I could have gone through all those treatments without you and mom."

"Treatments?" Clark asked.

Lex blinked, realizing what he'd said. "Yeah," he looked at Lionel, "I had... cancer?" he asked, the memories slowly coming into focus.

Lionel shook his head. "Radiation poisoning," he corrected. "At least, that's what the doctors finally decided." He looked to Jonathan and Martha. "That's one of the reasons I sent Brian instead of coming myself until I was completely sure that your AJ was actually my Alexander." He looked to his son. "I'm afraid your town holds some very unpleasant memories for me; which makes it very ironic, as it has given Alexander back to me twice now after I'd given up hope of ever finding him alive." He turned to smile at the Kents. "At least this time, I know who to thank for keeping him safe until we found him."

"Dad?"

"You're our little red-headed stowaway," Martha said with a watery smile. "It makes so much sense now."

Lionel looked sharply at Martha. "What do you mean, Mrs. Kent?"

Martha caught Jonathan's hand tightly in her own, her eyes locking on Lex's. "Twenty years ago, after the first wave of meteors hit, Jonathan and I went to check on his rig. Times were tight and that rig was all we really had so we needed to see what type of damage it had sustained. We didn't have enough room to store it at the farm, so Jonathan had been leaving it in one of the lots out by Sutter's." Tears shone in Martha's eyes as she continued the story, looking back and forth between the two boys sitting on the loveseat. "We found Clark just outside there." She smiled at her son. "He was so precious, like a little dark-haired angel."

Lex blinked as a flash of memory overlaid Clark's face, that of a small, dark haired boy who'd found and led him from a burning field. He shook his head, his fingers clutching at Clark's.

"When we got closer to the truck Clark started cooing and laughing and tugging us forward," Martha continued softly. "Imagine our surprise when we realized the door had been opened and there was a little, red-headed child curled up in the sleeper."

Lex's eyes widened, memory flooding back in disjointed, rapid fire images. "I... I was so scared. And this angel came out of the smoke and took my hand." He felt the heat of the fire against his skin, the fear that had swamped him as he lay beneath the body of a human scarecrow, the relief of looking up into a child-round face with wide, kind eyes. "I couldn't see very well, my eyes hurt so badly."

"The doctors said that you'd sustained some fire damage to your eyes," Lionel clarified in a whisper soft voice. "They couldn't believe it when they healed completely."

"You were wrapped in the very quilt that they brought you into the house in this time," Martha said with a smile. "You looked so small, and it wasn't until Clark curled up next to you that you calmed down enough to let us close enough to see how badly you were hurt."

"You held me, telling me not to be scared of the thunder because we were safe in the truck," Lex said, eyes locking with Martha's. "And... someone was singing." He looked at Jonathan. "It was a lullaby in a language I didn't know. That's why I knew your voice. You sang to keep us calm and my angel started cooing along while he petted the skin behind my ear, the only place that didn't hurt." He looked at Clark. "You really were my angel. But you left," he said plaintively. "You promised you'd come and find me if I went with the men in the helicopter because I was scared to fly."

"You always hated flying," Lionel said, his voice unsteady.

"But you never came," Lex said brokenly.

Clark wrapped his arm around his lover, curling him close.

"Oh, sweetie," Martha said, unashamedly crying as they put the pieces together. "We *did* try and find you. We came to the hospital the next day but they wouldn't tell us where you were. We couldn't find you. One of the nurses finally told us that the 'little red-headed boy' had been reunited with his daddy and taken to another hospital, but she didn't know which one."

"Dominick had finally managed to find you," Lionel added. "He'd not been with me very long at that point and he let Jeremy convince him to keep your identity a secret so no one could try and extort money from us later. I... we never knew who'd taken care of him," Lionel said, looking to the Kents.

"That explains why I feel so safe with you," Lex said from the safety of Clark's embrace. "You'd protected me before and part of me remembered that."

From the floor, Julian finally spoke. "Sense memory is often stronger than any other memory tag, AJ. It would make sense. Sound, scent, feel. Sense memory hits on a more primitive level than some of the more cognitive based memories, so even with amnesia part of your subconscious remembered those sense impressions."

Lex smiled at his brother, ruffling the thick hair. "And you say you aren't smart," he teased gently. Julian shrugged, obviously pleased with the praise.

"I tried to find out who'd cared for you, Alexander. So I could thank them. I'd been hurt in the initial meteor strike and had been one of the first ones airlifted out. I was unconscious and no one knew to look for you. He didn't normally travel with me," he explained to the Kents, "but Lillian had hoped that it would give us a chance to 'bond' as father and son. Oddly enough, it did after a fashion. By the time we could start looking for Alexander's 'angel', no one remembered who had taken care of him." He withdrew his linen handkerchief and wiped at his damp eyes. "It appears I owe you my son's life twice over," he said. "How can I ever repay you for all you've done?"

Jonathan looked from Lionel to the two boys curled unselfconsciously together on the loveseat. "You don't owe us anything, Mr. Luthor," he reassured the wealthy man. "We were just doing the right thing."

"But surely..."

"Dad," Lex interrupted. "Don't. Sometimes it's not about money," he cautioned.

"You're more and more like your mother every day, my boy," Lionel said with a wistful smile. "She would be so proud of how you've turned out."

Lex smiled at the praise, leaning in to Clark's warmth. Clark's arm was a reassuring weight around his shoulders, and he smiled as fingers began to slowly massage of the skin behind his ear. Around him the conversation continued, but he was focused on the soothing touch of his lover. The pieces all finally fit, putting the odd flashes and impressions together into a cohesive whole that made the love he shared with Clark seem almost predestined. He had had an angel all those years ago, a whole family of angels that he'd found again when he'd needed them. Lex wasn't a religious man, but he offered a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening for sending him his very own guardian angel.

He turned and pressed a soft kiss to Clark's neck. Clark shifted to look down at him, but Lex just smiled, settling deeper into Clark's embrace. He let the sounds wash over him and felt himself relaxing as a quiet epiphany unfolded in his heart. He ran a hand through Julian's hair, smiling at his brother when he looked up. Julian smiled back, touched but mildly confused by the gesture. Lex shook his head, just maintaining the connection between them as he let the feeling of "home" settle into his healing soul.

He'd been right. His angel *had* found him... Twice. And from the way the strong arms curled possessively around him, Lex doubted he'd manage to get away from Clark again.

And that was just the way Lex wanted it.

~fin~


End file.
